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The  Committee  on  Publications  of  the  Grolier 
Club  certifies  that  this  copy  of  the  translation 
of  "Giovanni  Boccaccio's  Life  of  Dante"  is 
one  of  an  edition  of  three  hundred  copies  on 
Italian  hand-made  paper,  and  three  copies  on 
vellum,  and  that  all  the  copies  were  printed  in 
the  month  of  February,  1 900. 


BOCCACCIO'S 

LIFE  OF   DANTE 


A  TRANSLATION  OF 

GIOVANNI  BOCCACCIO'S 

LIFE  OF  DANTE 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  AND  A  NOTE 
ON  THE  PORTRAITS  OF  DANTE 

BY 

G.  R.  CARPENTER 


THE  GROLIER  CLUB 

OF  THE  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK 

MDCCCC 


Copyright,  1900,  by 

The  Grolier  Club  of  the 

City  of  New  York. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction 13 

I     Proem 29 

11     Dante's  Birth  and  Education 35 

III  Dante's  Love  for  Beatrice  and  his  Marriage  43 

IV  Dante's  Family  Cares,  Honors,  and  Exile        .  57 
V     Dante's  Flight  from  Florence  and  Travels       .  63 

VI     His  Death  and  Funeral  Honors    ....  69 

VII     The  Florentines  Reproached 74 

Vili     Dante's  Appearance,  Usages  and  Habits  .       .  83 

IX     Digression  with  regard  to  Poetry  ....  91 

X     The    Difference    that   exists   between    Poetry 

and  Theology 98 

XI     The  Laurel  bestowed  on  Poets     .       .       .       .105 

XII     Qualities  and  Defects  of  Dante     ....  109 


IO  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XIII  The  Different  Works  written  by  Dante     .       .     Il6 

XIV  Some  Accidents  that  happened  with  regard  to 

the  Divine  Comedy 120 

XV     Why  the  Comedy  is  written  in  the  Vulgar 

Tongue 127 

XVI     The  Book  of  Monarchy  and  Other  Works     .      130 

XVII     Explanation  of  the  Dream  of  Dante's  Mother 

and  Conclusion 135 

Note  on  the  Portraits  of  Dante      .       .       .       .147 

Index 157 


ON  THE  ILLUSTRATIONS 
OF  THIS  VOLUME 

The  Frontispiece  is  a  reproduction  of  a  drawing 
by  George  Varian  from  a  photograph  of  the  Min- 
iature in  the  Codex  Riccardianus,  1040. 

The  view  of  Florence  before  1490  is  a  reproduc- 
tion, by  kind  permission  of  Dr.  Lippman,  of  the 
unique  woodcut  in  the  Print  Department  of  the 
Berlin  Museum. 

The  cover  design,  by  Edward  B.  Edwards,  Jr., 
is  fully  explained  in  Chapter  XVII. 


INTRODUCTION 


I T  is  impossible  to  say  with  any 
definiteness  when  'Boccaccio 
wrote  his  Life  of  Dante,  though 
scholars  have  many  times  suc- 
ceeded^ to  their  own  satisfac- 
tion, in  settling  on  an  approx- 
imate date.  He  must  have  written  it  before 
1373,  because  he  refers  to  it  in  his  'Dante  lec- 
tures of  that  year.  He  must  have  completed  it 
after  1348,  because  he  incorporates  in  it  a  pas- 
sage from  a  letter  of  'Petrarch  written  in  that 
year.  'But  all  attempts  to  refer  it  to  a  particu- 
lar year  seem,  upon  close  examination,  fruit- 


14  INTRODUCTION 

less.  ZVe  can  surmise  that  he  wrote  after  his 
visit  to  'J^avenna  in  1350,  in  which  he  bore  to 
'Dante's  daughter,  'Beatrice,  then  a  nun  in  the 
convent  of  San  Stefano  dell'  Uliva,  a  subsidy  of 
ten  florins  of  gold  from  the  company  of  Or  San 
Michele;  and  we  may  feel  that  his  work  has 
the  serious  and  earnest  character  that  marks  his 
later  writings.  It  was  first  printed  in  1477  cis 
prefatory  material  to  the  first  Venetian  edition 
of  the  Divine  Comedy.  It  was  again  issued, 
—  this  time  separately, —  in  l^ome  in  1344, 
and  in  1576  it  was  appended  to  the  first  edition 
of  the  New  Life.  In  the  eighteenth  century, 
when  interest  in  'Dante  reached  its  lowest  point, 
it  was  only  twice  reprinted.  In  the  present  cen- 
tury, with  the  reawakening  of  love  for  mediaeval 
literature,  it  has  appeared  in  a  number  of  edi- 
tions. The  definitive  edition,  the  text  of  which 
is  followed  in  this  translation,  was  published  in 
1888  by  a  brilliant  young  Italian  scholar,  the 
late  'Dr.  Macri-Leone.  In  spite  of  its  interest 
and  value,  however,  the  Life  of  Dante  has  not, 
so  far  as  I  know,  been  translated,  as  a  whole. 


INTRODUCTION  15 

into  any  language.  The  French  version  ofJ^ey- 
nard  is  based  on  the  shorter  and  less  important 
form  of  the  Life,  and  the  accurate  and  graceful 
version  by  Mr.  'P.  H.  ZVicksteed,  in  his  Pro- 
visional Translation  of  the  Early  Lives  of 
Dante  (  1898),  omits  a  number  of  the  less  essen- 
tial chapters.  The  accompanying  translation, 
therefore,  is  believed  to  be  the  first  that  is  com- 
plete—  not  only  in  English  but  in  any  language. 
ZVe  must  not  proceed  further,  however,  with- 
out disposing  of  a  troublesome  question,  which 
has  occupied  the  attention  of  previous  writers  on 
the  subject  to  a  surprising  and  unnecessary  de- 
gree,—  I  mean  the  relation  between  the  various 
forms  in  which  the  Life  has  come  down  to  us. 
Neglecting  minor  variations,  these  are,  in  brief, 
two, —  the  so-called  vita  intera  or  ''whole  life," 
and  the  so-called  compendio  or  ''summary," 
which  has  usually  been  considered  an  abbrevi- 
ated form  of  the  "whole  life."  The  Compend 
is  found  in  three  texts,  each  differing  consid- 
erably from  the  others.  It  is  distinguished  from 
the  Life  not  so  much  in  length,  though  it  is  some- 


16  INTRODUCTION 

what  shorter,  as  in  proportion,  for  it  sometimes 
passes  lightly  over  topics  which  are  treated  at 
length  in  the  Life,  and  sometimes  develops  at 
length  topics  which  have  been  there  only  touched 
upon.  /Is  to  the  relation  between  the  two,  ex- 
perts differ  widely,  and  the  question  has  been 
for  many  years  the  subject  of  a  somewhat  heated 
discussion,  which  has  been  summed  up  by  ©r. 
Moore  in  his  valuable  little  volume,  Dante  and 
his  Early  Biographers  (  18^0).  Those  who  hold 
opinions  on  the  matter  may,  as  ©r.  Moore  says, 
be  divided  into  four  classes, — first,  those  who 
believe  that  the  Life  is  genuine  and  the  Conn- 
pend  is  spurious^  second,  those  who  believe 
that  the  Compend  is  genuine  and  the  Life  spu- 
rious^ third,  those  who  believe  that  'Boccaccio 
was  the  author  of  both,  but  that  the  Compend  is 
a  later  revision }  and  fourth,  those  who  believe 
that  'Boccaccio  wrote  both,  but  that  the  Compend 
is  an  earlier  draft,  from  which  the  Life  was  de- 
veloped. The  second  opinion  is  not  generally 
held}  the  first  is  the  most  common  ^  the  last  has 
quite  recently  been  ably  defended  by  ^ostagno. 


INTRODUCTION  17 

in  the  introduction  to  his  critical  edition  of  the 
Compend  [1899). 

It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  go  deeply  into 
this  puzzling  and  apparently  unsolvable  prob- 
lem. ZVe  need  merely  point  out  two  things. 
First,  so  far  as  biography  is  concerned,  the  main 
points  with  regard  to  'Dante's  life  are  without 
exception  made  in  both  treatises.  The  empha- 
sis laid  on  these  points  differs  somewhat,  but 
the  points  themselves  are  identical.  Second, 
under  these  circumstances,  we  have,  from  our 
point  of  view,  merely  to  choose  the  treatise  from 
which  we  can  best  get  'Boccaccio's  conception 
of  'Dante's  character.  /Ill  agree  that  that  can 
be  obtained  best  from  the  ''whole  life."  There 
is  no  doubt  of  its  genuineness  ',  it  is  the  fuller 
of  the  two  and  the  more  finished.  ZVe  have, 
therefore,  chosen  it  here  for  translation  in  pref- 
erence to  the  Compend.  ZVhether  the  Com- 
pend be  'Boccaccio's  early  draft  or  a  revision 
attempted  by  others,  makes  little  or  no  differ- 
ence to  the  student  of  Dante. 

Boccaccio's  interest  in  Dante  was  of  long 

2 


18  INTRODUCTION 

standing.  His  earliest  letters  show  the  influ- 
ence of  'Dante's  Latin  style.  The  introduction 
to  the  Filocolo,  his  first  work,  shows  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Vita  Nuova;  the  Amorosa  Visione, 
in  which  he  calls  'Dante  the  ^'  lord  of  all  know- 
ledge/' is  in  obvious  imitation  of  the  Divine 
Comedy;  the  charming  ballate  in  the  Decam- 
eron are  modelled  on  the  lyrics  of 'Dante  and  his 
school;  and  there  are  many  other  traces  of  his 
admiration  for  'Dante  and  his  earnest  study  of 
his  works.  In  1359;  sending  to  the  unrespon- 
sive Petrarch  a  codex  of  the  Divine  Comedy, 
he  bears  testimony  to  the  love  he  had,  from  his 
youth,  borne  for  'Dante's  writings  and  the  deep 
influence  they  had  had  upon  him.  ZVhen  in 
1373  the  city  established  a  public  course  of  lec- 
tures on  the  Divine  Comedy,  'Boccaccio  was 
appointed  to  the  post;  and  we  may  be  allowed, 
perhaps,  to  conjecture  that  the  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing in  Florence  regarding  ^ante,  at  that  period, 
may  have  been  to  some  considerable  degree  fur- 
thered by  his  genuine  and  impetuous  admiration. 


INTRODUCTION  19 

Certainly,  in  none  ofBoccaccio's  serious  works 
is  his  heart  so  evidently  in  his  task  as  in  this. 

Tiante  died  in  1 32 1.  'Boccaccio  was  born  in 
13 13'  His  youth  was  spent  in  Florence,  but 
'Dante  was  then  an  exile.  From  1330  to  about 
1340  he  was  at  Naples;  but  from  the  latter  date 
on  he  was,  for  various  periods,  again  a  resident 
of  Florence  and  familiar  with  such  traditions  as 
served  him  later  in  his  biographical  sketch.  He 
knew  intimately,  he  states,  'Dante^s  sister^s 
son,  yindrea  'Poggi,  who  greatly  resembled 
'Dante  in  face  and  stature,  and  from  him  re- 
ceived much  information  as  to  Dante's  ways 
and  habits.  He  knew  'Dino  'Perini,  according 
to  his  own  account  a  familiar  friend  of  'Dante; 
and  that  unknown  informant,  the  near  relative 
of  'Beatrice,  on  whose  testimony  seems  to  rest 
the  only  positive  evidence  that  she  was  then 
thought  to  be  'Beatrice  Portinari.  At  l^aven- 
na,  too,  he  had  met  Dante's  daughter,  'Beatrice, 
and  Piero  Giardino,  whom  he  mentions  in  his 
commentary  as  one  of  'Dante's  most  devoted 


20  INTRODUCTION 

friends.  'Better  sources  he  could  scarcely  have 
had  for  securing  the  information  he  seems  to 
have  been  most  in  search  of — information  re- 
garding not  only  the  main  facts  of 'Dante's  life, 
but  his  temperament  and  character. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  'Boccaccio  had 
no  published  sources  of  information.  No  one 
had  written  of 'Dante  before^  save  Giovanni  Vil- 
lani in  his  Florentine  Chronicle,  and  that  only 
incidentally  and  briefly.  Documents  that  would 
have  made  much  clear  to  us  he  could  doubtless 
have  secured^  and  it  is  greatly  to  be  regretted 
that  he  did  not  do  so.  But  it  is  easy  to  see  that 
he  had  no  precedents  for  such  a  procedure.  His 
was  not  only  the  first  biography  of  Dante,  but, 
with  the  exception  of  Joinville's  Saint  Louis, 
the  first  modern  biography  of  any  sort.  The 
chronicle  was  a  familiar  form  of  composition, 
and  was  rapidly  developing  into  history,  but  bi- 
ography was  unknown.  The  few  accessible  Latin 
models  afforded  him  little  help',  and,  immersed 
as  he  was  in  the  multitudinous  classical  erudi- 
tion that  made  him  one  of  the  greatest  compilers 


INTRODUCTION  21 

of  his  age^  he  naturally  failed  to  see  that  pos- 
terity would  look  to  him  and  his  contemporaries 
for  whatever  accurate  and  decisive  information 
could  be  obtained  as  to  the  real  facts  of 'Dante's 
life. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  a  work  en- 
tered on  with  such  devoted  enthusiasm,  and  by 
one  who  was  not  only  a  great  man  of  letters  him- 
self, but  had  access  to  such  sources  of  infor- 
mation, should  have  become  a  classic.  Bach 
succeeding  writer  drew  mainly  from  'Boccaccio's 
store,  and,  with  a  single  exception,  his  has  re- 
mained until  our  own  century  the  only  essay  on 
'Dante  worth  serious  consideration.  That  ex- 
ception is  the  concise  biographical  sketch  of 
Lionardo  'Bruni,  more  generally  known,  from 
the  city  of  his  birth,  as  Lionardo  Aretino, — a 
distinguished  historian  and  antiquary  of  the  suc- 
ceeding century  [1369-1444)'  Serious  minded 
and  critical,  with  something  of  the  modern  schol- 
ar's  feeling  for  ^^ sources"  and  exact  documen- 
tary evidence,  Lionardo  was  mildly  contemptu- 
ous of  Boccaccio's  essay,  as  is  clearly  shown 


22  INTRODUCTION 

by  the  opening  lines  of  his  sketch,  which  I  quote 
from  Mr,  ZVicksteed's  translation  : 

'^  Having  in  the  last  few  days  completed  a 
work  of  great  length,  I  fell  into  the  desire  of  read- 
ing something  in  the  vernacular  to  refresh  my 
toil-spent  mind}  because,  as  at  table  one  un- 
changing diet,  so  in  study  one  unchanging  kind 
of  reading  palls  upon  us.  /is  I  searched,  then, 
with  this  purpose,  my  hand  fell  upon  a  little 
work  of  'Boccaccio,  entitled  '  Of  the  life,  man- 
ners and  studies  of  the  most  illustrious  poet 
'Dante';  and  though  I  had  previously  read  this 
work  with  great  diligence,  yet  as  I  now  scanned 
it  anew  it  came  upon  me  that  this  most  delightful 
and  charming  'Boccaccio  of  ours  wrote  the  life 
and  manners  of  so  sublime  a  poet  just  as  though 
he  were  writing  the  Filocolo,  or  the  Filostrato, 
or  the  Fiammetta.  For  it  is  all  full  of  love  and 
sighs  and  burning  tears;  as  though  man  were 
born  into  this  world  only  that  he  might  take  his 
place  in  those  ten  amorous  Days  wherein  enam- 
oured ladies  and  gallant  youths  recounted  the 
hundred  Tales.   /Ind  he  grows  so  warm  in  these 


INTRODUCTION  23 

passages  of  love  that  he  drops  the  weighty  and 
substantial  parts  of  'Dante's  life,  passing  them 
over  in  silence,  while  he  records  trivial  matters 
and  holds  his  peace  concerning  grave  ones.  So 
it  came  into  my  heart  to  rewrite  Dante's  life  for 
my  diversion,  taking  more  note  of  the  memora- 
ble things.  Nor  do  I  this  in  disparagement  of 
'Boccaccio,  but  that  my  work  may  be  a  supple- 
ment to  his." 

/Igain  and  again,  in  the  course  of  his  work, 
Lionardo  returns  to  the  charge,  regretting  that 
'Boccaccio  devoted  so  much  space  to  'Dante's 
wife  and  to  Beatrice,  and  neglected  the  civic  and 
political  side  of  Dante's  genius.  He  himself 
does  not  mention  Beatrice,  and  preserves  an  at- 
titude of  indifference  to  what  modern  writers 
sometimes  call  Dante's  "inner"  life,  but  he 
had  access  to  certain  letters  of  Dante  now  lost, 
and  his  whole  treatment  of  Dante's  political 
career  is  particularly  discriminating  and  con- 
vincing. 

On   these  two  writers,  'Boccaccio  and  Lio- 
nardo,  modern  criticism,  almost  hopeless  of  de- 


24  INTRODUCTION 

ducing  from  'Dante* s  works f  or  discovering  from 
contemporary  records,  the  truth  as  to  much  that 
is  of  vital  interest  in  his  life,  is  coming  more  and 
more  to  lean.  The  contrast  between  them  is  strik- 
ing. Bach  author  was  by  temperament  and 
tastes  the  precursor  of  a  whole  group  of  later 
authors,  —  Boccaccio  the  founder  of  modern 
literary  biography,  Lionardo  one  of  the  first 
writers  of  the  Renaissance  to  apply  a  more  crit- 
ical and  unemotional  method  of  analysis  to  such 
subjects,  and  thus  to  pave  the  way  for  our  mod- 
ern school  of  unliterary  historians  and  biogra- 
phers, who  sometimes  stick  so  closely  to  the 
letter  of  their  documentary  sources  that  they  do 
violence  to  the  spirit  of  their  subject. 

'Boccaccio's  serious  writings  have  suffered 
from  his  reputation  as  the  author  of  the  Decame- 
ron. How  can  the  maker  of  fiction  be  a  good 
biographer?  the  critic  naturally  asks.  /Ind  it 
must  be  confessed  that  there  are  several  points 
in  which  'Boccaccio's  Life  of  Dante  lies  open  to 
question  if  not  to  censure.  It  is  only  just  to  enu- 
merate them.    First,  it  is  charged  that  Boccac- 


INTRODUCTION  25 

cio^s  allegorical  explanation  of  the  dream  of 
'Dante's  mother^  and  his  account  of  the  finding 
of  the  last  cantos  of  the  Paradise  by  means  of 
a  vision,  prove  him  to  be  of  an  uncritical  and 
credulous  mind.  Second,  his  long  tirade  in  Chap- 
ter 1 1 1,  apropos  of  Gemma  'Donati,  against  wives 
and  the  trouble  which  they  cause  philosophic  and 
studious  husbands,  is  manifestly  unjust,  since  he 
himself  expressly  confesses  that  he  knows  no- 
thing that  would  show  that  'Dante's  wife  was 
uncongenial  to  him,  save  the  fact  that,  from  the 
beginning  of  his  exile,  they  did  not  live  together 
and  apparently  made  no  efforts  to  do  so.  Third, 
his  statement  in  Chapter  XII  as  to  Xante's 
licentiousness  seems  to  many  incredible. 

In  reply  to  each  of  these  charges  something 
may  fairly  be  said.  First,  the  allegorical  inter- 
pretation of  the  dream  of 'Dante's  mother  has  its 
example  in  many  passages  in  'Dante's  own  prose 
works,  and  may  be  pardoned,  in  his  case  as  in 
'Dante's,  as  due  to  the  adoption  of  a  method  of 
interpretation  which  had  been  in  common  use  for 
centuries.    The  apparition  of  Chapter  XIV  and 


26  INTRODUCTION 

the  recovery  of  the  manuscript  through  its  means 
are  almost  exactly  paralleled  by  more  than  one 
incident  recorded  in  the  reports  of  the  Society  for 
'Psychical  l^esearch.  That  such  an  occurrence 
is  incredible,  few  men  of  scientific  training  would 
perhaps  now  care  to  say.  Second,  'Boccaccio's 
attitude  towards  women  and  matrimony,  par- 
ticularly after  the  incidents  that  led  to  the  publi- 
cation of  the  Corbaccio,  was  one  full  of  bitter- 
ness. ZVhat  he  honestly  thought  true, —  that 
it  was  impossible  for  a  married  scholar  to  con- 
tinue his  researches  in  peace, —  he  wished  to 
state  as  strongly  as  possible.  So  far  as  he  knew 
Xante's  character  and  that  of  Florentine  women 
he  undoubtedly  conjectured  that  'Dante's  mar- 
riage must  have  proved  a  hindrance  to  him  in  his 
studies^  but  he  expressly  states  that  he  knew 
nothing  against  Gemma.  That  part  of  his  tirade 
is  borrowed  from  a  fragment  of  Theophrastus 
need  not  surprise  us,  and  indeed  makes  it  more 
evident  that  he  was  generalizing  rather  than  par- 
ticularizing, /is  a  general  statement  the  pas- 
sage is  significant  of  the  attitude  of  the  early 


INTRODUCTION  27 

humanists  towards  matrimony^  and,  in  its  es- 
sence, would  probably  have  been  subscribed  to 
by  'Petrarch, — and  perhaps  by 'Dante  himself. 
Third,  'Boccaccio's  statement  as  to  'Dante's 
licentiousness  is  repeated  by  Dante's  own  son 
and  by  other  fourteenth  century  commentators. 
It  has  at  least  as  much  evidence  in  its  favor  as 
the  statement  that  'Beatrice  was  Beatrice  'Por- 
tinari,  and  there  is  much  in  the  habits  of  the  time 
that  would  predispose  us  to  believe  it.  Certainly 
it  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  a  malicious  or  an 
incredible  statement,  or  one  that  was  without 
direct  bearing  on  the  subject  matter  of  the  essay. 
On  the  whole,  then,  it  is  apparent  that  the 
Life  of  Dante  may  properly  be  censured  only  in 
two  particulars, —  the  over-attention  paid  to  al- 
legorizing and  the  extreme  attitude  towards  mat- 
rimony. Of  these,  the  first  was  the  common 
fault  of  the  times,  and  the  second,  to  some  de- 
gree, due  to  Boccaccio's  private  failings.  Both 
may  be  pardoned  him  when  we  reflect  on  the 
points  in  which  the  Life  deserves  praise, — the 
emphasis  which  it  lays  upon  Dante's  character 


28 


INTRODUCTION 


rather  than  upon  the  less  significant  facts  of  his 
lifCf  and  the  precious  information  he  gives  us  as 
to  the  poet's  physical  appearance  and  intellec- 
tual habits.  It  is  largely  due  to  'Boccaccio  that 
we  know  more  of 'Dante  than  we  do  of  any  other 
of  the  greatest  poets. 

G.  ^.  Carpenter. 


PROEM 


OLON,  whose  breast  was 
reputed  a  human  temple  of 
divine  wisdom,  and  whose 
sacred  laws  are  to  the  fene- 
ration of  to-day  an  illustrious 
witness  to  the  justice  of  the 
ancients,  was,  as  some  say,  often  in  the  habit 
of  declaring  that  every  republic  walks  and  stands 
on  two  feet  like  ourselves.  Of  these,  he  affirmed 
with  great  weight,  the  right  is  not  letting  any 
crime  that  has  been  committed  remain  unpun- 
ished, and  the  left  is  rewarding  every  good 
deed.    He  added  that  whenever  either  of  the 


30  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

two  things  mentioned  was  neglected,  whether 
by  fault  or  by  carelessness,  or  was  not  well 
seen  to,  the  republic  that  so  fared  must  without 
doubt  ^o  lame;  and  if  by  bad  luck  she  sinned 
in  both  points,  it  was  almost  inevitable  that  she 
could  not  stand  at  all.  Struck  by  this  praise- 
worthy and  obviously  sound  maxim,  many  an- 
cient and  famous  peoples  honored  their  worthy 
men,  sometimes  by  deification,  sometimes  by 
marble  statues,  often  by  distinguished  obse- 
quies and  triumphal  arches  and  laurel  crowns, 
according  to  their  merits.  The  punishments  in- 
flicted on  the  culpable,  on  the  other  hand,  I  do 
not  care  to  recount.  It  was  by  virtue  of  such 
honors  and  penalties  that  Assyria,  Macedonia, 
Greece,  and  finally  the  Roman  Republic,  grew 
until  their  deeds  reached  the  ends  of  the  earth 
and  their  fame  touched  the  stars.  In  the  foot- 
steps of  such  high  exemplars  their  present 
successors  have  not  only  failed  to  follow,  es- 
pecially these  Florentines  of  mine,  but  have 
so  far  wandered  from  them  that  now  ambition 
holds  all  the  rewards  due  to  virtue.  Wherefore 
I,  and  whoever  else  will  look  at  the  matter 
with  a  rational  eye,  can  see,  not  without  the 
greatest  affliction  of  heart,  evil  and  perverse 


PROEM  31 

men  elevated  to  hi^b  places  and  supreme 
offices  and  rewards,  and  ^ood  men  exiled,  cast 
down,  and  humbled.  What  end  the  justice  of 
God  may  reserve  for  these  practices  let  them 
consider  who  hold  the  rudder  of  our  ship  of 
state,  since  we  of  the  common  people  are 
borne  alon^  with  them  by  Fortune's  blast,  but 
are  not  partakers  in  their  ^uilt.  Although  what 
has  been  said  above  may  be  confirmed  by 
numberless  open  instances  of  ingratitude  to 
the  ^ood  and  criminal  leniency  to  the  bad,  one 
instance  alone  will  be  enough  to  give,  that  I 
may  least  discover  our  own  faults  and  best 
come  at  my  principal  point.  Nor  shall  this 
instance  be  little  or  slight;  for  I  refer  to  the 
exile  of  the  illustrious  Dante  Alighieri,  born 
of  an  old  citizen  family,  not  of  low  parentage. 
What  rewards  he  deserved  for  his  worth,  his 
learning,  and  his  good  service  are  amply  ap- 
parent, and  will  be  shown  by  what  we  shall 
see  that  he  did.  If  such  deeds  had  been  done 
in  a  just  republic,  there  is  no  doubt  that  they 
would  have  won  him  the  highest  rewards. 

Oh,  vile  thought,  infamous  deed,  wretched 
example,  manifest  sign  of  ruin  to  come!  In 
place  of  reward,  he   suffered  an  unjust  and 


32  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

hasty  sentence,  perpetual  banishment,  the  ali- 
enation of  his  family  estate,  and,  if  that  could 
have  been  accomplished,  the  staining  of  his 
glorious  fame  by  false  accusations.  To  this 
the  fresh  traces  of  his  flight,  his  bones  buried 
in  another  country,  his  children  scattered  in 
others'  houses,  still  in  part  bear  witness.  If  all 
the  other  iniquities  of  Florence  could  be  con- 
cealed from  the  all-seeing  eyes  of  God,  would 
not  this  alone  suffice  to  draw  down  upon  her 
His  wrath?  Yea,  verily.  Of  him,  who,  on  the 
other  hand,  has  been  exalted,  I  jud^e  that  it  is 
better  to  be  silent.  Looking  well,  then,  at  the 
facts,  we  see  that  the  world  of  to-day  has  not 
only  left  the  path  of  the  earliest  world,  on 
which  I  touched  above,  but  has  turned  its  feet 
completely  in  the  other  direction.  Wherefore 
it  is  sufficiently  manifest  that  if  we,  and  others 
that  live  in  like  wise,  contrary  to  the  above- 
mentioned  maxim  of  Solon,  still  stand  on  our 
feet  without  falling,  there  can  be  no  other  rea- 
son than  that  through  lon^  usa^e  the  nature  of 
things  has  changed,  as  we  often  see  happen; 
or  it  is  a  special  miracle,  by  which  God,  on 
account  of  some  merit  in  our  past,  sustains  us, 
contrary  to  all  human  foresight;  or  that  it  is 


PROEM  33 

His  patience,  which  perhaps  awaits  our  repent- 
ance. And  if  that  does  not  at  length  follow, 
let  no  one  doubt  that  His  an^er,  which  with 
slow  pace  moves  towards  vengeance,  reserves 
for  us  a  punishment  so  much  more  grievous 
that  it  will  fully  justify  its  tardiness.  But  in- 
asmuch as  we  should  not  only  flee  evil  deeds, 
though  they  seem  to  go  unpunished,  but  also 
by  right  action  try  to  correct  them,  I,  recog- 
nizing that  I  am  of  the  same  city  as  Dante 
Alighieri, —  though  I  am  but  a  small  part  of 
it  and  he  a  very  great  part  of  it,  if  his  merits, 
his  nobility,  and  his  worth  be  considered, — 
feel  that,  like  every  other  citizen,  I  am  person- 
ally responsible  for  the  honors  due  him.  Al- 
though I  am  not  sufficient  for  so  great  a  task, 
nevertheless,  that  which  the  city  ought  to  have 
done  for  him  in  a  magnificent  fashion,  but  has 
not  done,  that  will  I  endeavor  to  do,  according 
to  my  own  poor  ability, —  not  with  a  statue  or 
noble  burial,  the  custom  of  which  has  now 
perished  among  us  (nor  would  my  power  suf- 
fice), but  by  my  writing, —  a  humble  means  for 
so  great  an  undertaking.  This  have  I,  and  of 
this  will  I  give,  in  order  that  foreign  nations 
cannot  say  that,  both  as  a  body  and  individu- 
3 


34  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

ally,  his  native  land  has  been  equally  ungrate- 
ful to  so  ^reat  a  poet.  And  I  shall  write  (in  a 
bumble  and  current  style,  because  higher  my 
talent  does  not  allow  me  to  ^o;  and  in  our  own 
Florentine  idiom,  that  it  may  not  be  out  of 
accord  with  the  language  he  used  in  the  greater 
part  of  his  works)  those  things  about  himself 
re^ardin^  which  he  modestly  kept  silence, — 
that  is,  the  nobility  of  his  origin,  his  life,  his 
studies,  and  his  ways.  Then  I  shall  sum  up 
the  works  by  which  he  has  made  himself  so 
illustrious  amon^  fenerations  yet  to  come,  that 
perhaps  my  words  shall  rather  obscure  him 
than  throw  li^ht  on  him,  though  that  will  not 
be  of  my  own  intent  and  will.  I  shall  be  glad 
always  in  this  and  other  matters  to  be  cor- 
rected by  those  wiser  than  I  when  I  have 
spoken  faultily.  But  that  that  may  not  happen, 
I  humbly  pray  Him  who  drew  Dante  by  those 
lofty  stairs,  as  we  know,  to  see  Him,  that  He 
will  now  aid  me,  and  guide  my  genius  and  my 
feeble  hand. 


II 


DANTE'S   BIRTH   AND   EDUCATION 


XORENCE,  as  well  as  the 
other  most  noble  Italian  cities, 
took  her  be^innin^  from  the 
Romans,  as  the  ancient  his- 
tories tell  us  and  as  the  com- 
mon opinion  of  people  now 
runs.  In  process  of  time  she  ^rew  larger,  be- 
came full  of  people  and  of  illustrious  citizens, 
and  be^an  to  appear  to  her  neighbors  not 
merely  a  city  but  a  power.  Whether  the  ulti- 
mate cause  of  the  change  was  adverse  for- 
tune, or  the  ill-will  of  heaven,  or  the  deserts  of 
her  citizens,  is  uncertain;  but  it  is  clear  that. 


36  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

not  many  centuries  after,  Attila,  the  cruel  kin^ 
of  the  Vandals,  and  the  general  devastator  of 
nearly  all  Italy,  killed  and  dispersed  all  or  the 
greater  part  of  her  citizens  who  were  famous 
for  noble  blood  or  for  other  reasons,  and  re- 
duced Florence  itself  to  ashes  and  ruins.  Thus 
it  remained,  it  is  believed,  for  more  than  three 
hundred  years.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the 
imperial  power  of  Rome  was  transferred,  not 
without  cause,  from  Greece  to  Gaul;  and 
Charles  the  Great,  then  the  most  clement  king 
of  the  French,  was  raised  to  the  imperial 
throne.  After  many  labors,  moved,  I  believe, 
by  the  divine  spirit,  he  turned  his  imperial  mind 
to  the  rebuilding  of  this  desolate  city;  and  al- 
though he  limited  its  size  by  a  small  circuit  of 
walls,  he  had  it  rebuilt,  so  far  as  he  could, 
after  the  likeness  of  Rome,  and  settled  by  those 
who  had  been  its  first  founders,  collecting  in- 
side the  walls,  nevertheless,  the  few  remnants 
which  could  be  found  of  the  descendants  of  the 
ancient  exiles. 

Among  these  new  inhabitants, — perhaps 
one  who  superintended  the  rebuilding,  or  as- 
signed the  houses  and  streets,  or  gave  to  this 
new  people  the  necessary  laws, — there  came 


BIRTH  AND  EDUCATION  37 

from  Rome,  as  the  story  runs,  a  noble  youth  of 
the  family  of  the  Frangipani,  called  by  all  Eli- 
seo. He,  by  chance,  after  he  had  accomplished 
the  principal  purpose  for  which  he  was  come, 
became  a  permanent  resident  of  the  city,  drawn 
either  by  love  for  the  city  which  he  had  so  re- 
cently helped  to  reorganize;  or  by  the  pleasant 
site,  to  which  he  perhaps  saw  that  heaven  in 
future  must  be  favorable;  or  by  some  other 
cause.  After  him  he  left  a  lar^e  and  worthy 
family  of  sons  and  descendants,  who,  abandon- 
ing the  ancient  surname  of  their  ancestors,  took 
for  a  surname  that  of  him  who  had  founded 
theirfamily,andallcalled  themselves  the  Elisei. 
As  time  went  on  and  son  succeeded  father, 
there  was  born  and  lived,  in  this  family,  a  brave 
knight,  remarkable  for  his  deeds  and  his  wis- 
dom, whose  name  was  Cacciaguida.  To  him, 
in  his  youth,  was  given  by  his  elders  as  bride  a 
damsel  born  of  the  Aldighieri  of  Ferrara,  es- 
teemed for  her  beauty  and  character  as  well  as 
for  her  noble  blood,  with  whom  he  lived  many 
years,  and  by  whom  he  had  many  children. 
Whatever  the  others  were  called,  it  pleased 
the  mother  to  revive  for  one  the  name  of  her 
ancestors,  as  women  are  wont  to  like  to  do, 
3* 


38  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

naming  him  Aldi^hieri,  although  the  word  after- 
wards, dropping  the  letter  d,  became  Alighieri. 
The  worth  of  this  man  brought  it  about  that 
all  who  descended  from  him  forsook  the  name 
of  Elisei,  and  called  themselves  Alighieri, —  a 
practice  which  has  lasted  to  our  time.  From 
him  were  descended  many  children,  and  grand- 
children, and  great-grandchildren,  and,  in  the 
reign  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  the  Second, 
one  whose  name  was  Alighieri,  and  who  was 
destined  to  become  illustrious  through  his  son 
rather  than  by  himself.  His  wife,  when  with 
child  and  not  far  distant  from  the  time  of  par- 
turition, saw  in  a  dream  what  the  fruit  of  her 
womb  should  be  ;  and  the  dream  is  now  clear  to 
all,  although  it  was  not  then  understood  by  her 
or  by  others. 

It  seemed  to  the  gentle  lady  in  her  dream 
that  she  was  under  a  lofty  laurel  tree  in  a  green 
meadow,  hard  by  a  clear  spring,  and  here  she 
felt  herself  give  birth  to  a  son,  who,  in  a  brief 
space  of  time,  feeding  only  upon  the  berries 
which  fell  from  the  laurel  tree,  and  drinking  of 
the  waters  of  the  clear  spring,  seemed  to  her 
to  become  a  shepherd,  and  to  strive  with  all  his 
might  to  lay  hold  on  the  leaves  of  the  laurel 


BIRTH  AND  EDUCATION  39 

tree  whose  fruit  had  fed  him.  And  in  striving 
for  this,  he  seemed  to  her  to  fall,  and  on  rising 
to  have  become  no  more  a  man  but  a  peacock. 
At  this  she  was  so  greatly  astonished  that  she 
awoke,  and  not  a  lon^  while  after  the  proper 
time  came  for  her  labor,  and  she  ^ave  birth  to 
a  son,  to  whom  she  and  his  father  ^ave  by 
common  consent  the  name  of  Dante;  and  ap- 
propriately, too,  since,  as  we  shall  see  later, 
the  result  fitted  the  name  excellently.  This 
was  that  Dante  of  whom  I  write;  this  was  that 
Dante  who  was  granted  to  our  a^e  by  the  spe- 
cial ^race  of  God;  this  was  that  Dante  who 
first  was  destined  to  open  the  way  for  the  re- 
turn to  Italy  of  the  banished  Muses.  By  him 
the  ^lory  of  the  Florentine  idiom  was  made 
manifest;  by  him  all  the  beauties  of  the  com- 
mon speech  were  set  to  fitting  numbers;  by  him 
dead  poetry  may  properly  be  said  to  have  been 
revived.  These  things,  if  fittingly  considered, 
will  show  that  he  could  have  rightly  had  no 
other  name  than  Dante. 

This  ^lory  of  the  Italian  race  was  born  in 
our  city  when  the  imperial  throne  was  vacant 
through  the  death  of  the  Frederick  already 
mentioned,  in  the  year  of  the  saving  incarna- 


40  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

tion  of  the  King  of  the  Universe  MCCLXV, 
while  Pope  Urban  the  Fourth  sat  in  the  chair 
of  S.  Peter.  He  was  born  into  a  family  on 
whom  fortune  smiled, —  I  say  "smiled,"  ac- 
cording to  the  quality  of  the  world  at  that  time. 
But,  however  that  may  have  been,  letting  pass 
his  infancy,  in  which  appeared  many  signs  of 
the  future  glory  of  his  genius,  I  say  that  from 
the  beginning  of  his  boyhood,  when  he  had 
learned  the  first  elements  of  letters,  he  did  not 
give  himself  up,  after  the  fashion  of  the  young 
nobles  of  to-day,  to  boyish  wantonness  and 
sloth,  lounging  in  his  mother's  lap;  but  gave 
up  his  entire  boyhood,  in  his  own  city,  to  the 
continued  study  of  the  liberal  arts,  in  which  he 
became  admirably  expert.  And  as  his  mind 
and  genius  increased  with  years,  he  devoted 
himself,  not  to  the  lucrative  studies  to  which 
every  one  now  runs  as  a  rule,  but,  with  a  praise- 
worthy desire  for  eternal  fame,  despising  tran- 
sitory riches,  he  gave  himself  up  freely  to  his 
wish  to  have  a  full  knowledge  of  the  fictions  of 
the  poets  and  of  the  artistic  analysis  of  them. 
In  this  exercise  he  became  thoroughly  familiar 
with  Virgil,  Horace,  Ovid,  Statius,  and  other 
famous  poets,  not  only  being  fond  of  knowing 


BIRTH  AND  EDUCATION  41 

them,  but  striving  to  imitate  them  in  lofty  song, 
as  the  works  of  which  we  shall  speak  in  their 
proper  time  show.  And  seeing  that  the  works  of 
the  poets  are  not  vain  and  simple  fables  or  mar- 
vels, as  the  foolish  multitude  thinks,  but  that 
under  them  are  concealed  the  sweet  fruits  of 
historical  and  philosophical  truth  (for  which 
reason  the  intent  of  the  poets  cannot  be  wholly 
understood  without  history  and  moral  and  natu- 
ral philosophy),  he  made  a  proper  division  of 
his  time,  and  strove  to  learn  history  by  himself 
and  philosophy  under  various  masters,  not 
without  long  study  and  toil.  And  seized  by  the 
sweetness  of  knowing  the  truth  about  heavenly 
things,  and  finding  nothing  else  in  life  dearer 
than  this,  he  put  completely  aside  all  other 
earthly  cares,  and  devoted  himself  entirely  to 
it.  And  in  order  that  he  might  leave  no  part  of 
philosophy  uninvestigated,  his  acute  mind  ex- 
plored the  most  profound  depths  of  theology. 
Nor  was  the  result  far  distant  from  the  pur- 
pose ;  for,  without  regard  for  heat  or  cold,  vigils 
or  fasts,  or  any  other  bodily  discomfort,  by  as- 
siduous study  he  came  to  know  whatever  the 
human  intellect  can  here  know  of  the  Divine 
Essence  and  of  the  other  separate  intelligen- 


42  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

ces.  And  as  in  various  parts  of  his  life  he 
studied  various  sciences,  so  he  prosecuted  his 
various  studies  under  various  masters. 

The  first  elements,  as  has  been  said  above, 
he  ^ot  in  his  native  city;  and  from  here,  as  to 
a  place  richer  in  such  food,  he  went  to  Bo- 
logna; and  when  he  was  already  near  old  age, 
he  went  to  Paris,  where  he  showed  the  height 
of  his  genius  in  many  disputations,  with  such 
glory  to  himself  that  those  who  heard  him  still 
wonder  as  they  tell  the  tale.  As  a  result  of 
studies  of  this  sort,  he  won,  not  unjustly,  the 
highest  titles;  for  some  always  called  him  poet, 
others  philosopher,  and  many  theologian,  while 
he  lived.  But  since  victory  is  more  glorious  to 
the  victor  in  proportion  as  the  strength  of  the 
vanquished  is  greater,  I  judge  it  to  be  appro- 
priate to  show  on  what  a  surging  and  tem- 
pestuous sea,  tossed  now  here,  now  there, 
vanquishing  alike  the  waves  and  the  contrary 
winds,  he  came  to  the  safe  harbor  of  the  illus- 
trious titles  already  mentioned. 


Ill 


DANTE'S   LOVE   FOR   BEATRICE   AND 
HIS    MARRIAGE 

TU  DIES  are  generally  wont 
to  require  solitude,  freedom 
from  care,  and  tranquillity  of 
mind,  and  especially  specu- 
lative studies,  to  which  our 
Dante,  as  has  been  shown, 
^ave  himself  wholly  up.  In  place  of  this  free- 
dom and  quiet,  almost  from  the  beginning  of  his 
life  to  the  day  of  his  death,  Dante  was  the  prey 
of  the  fierce  and  unendurable  passion  of  love; 
he  had  a  wife,  public  and  private  responsibili- 
ties; he  suffered  exile  and  poverty.    Letting 


44  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

pass  other  more  special  cares  which  these  nec- 
essarily brin^  with  them,  I  deem  it  proper  to 
explain  these  burdens,  that  their  weight  may 
be  more  evident. 

In  the  season  when  the  sweetness  of  heaven 
reclothes  the  earth  with  its  adornments,  and 
makes  it  smile  with  various  kinds  of  flowers 
among  the  green  leaves,  it  was  the  custom  in 
our  city  for  men  and  women  to  hold  festival, 
each  in  his  own  district  and  with  his  own  friends. 
Therefore,  among  others,  it  chanced  that  Folco 
Portinari,  a  man  much  honored  among  his  fel- 
low citizens  at  that  time,  gathered  his  neigh- 
bors together  in  his  own  house  for  a  feast  on  the 
first  day  of  May.  Among  these  was  the  afore- 
said Alighieri,  who  was  followed  by  Dante, 
who  had  not  yet  finished  his  ninth  year,  even  as 
small  boys  are  wont  to  follow  their  fathers,  es- 
pecially to  places  of  festival.  Here,  mingling 
with  others  of  his  own  age  (for  there  were  many 
such  in  the  house  of  his  host,  both  boys  and 
girls),  the  first  tables  being  served,  he  gave 
himself  up  to  playing  like  a  child  with  the 
others,  so  far  as  his  tender  years  permitted. 
There  was  among  the  crowd  of  children  a  little 
daughter  of  the  aforesaid  Folco,  whose  name 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE  45 

was  Bice  (although  he  always  called  her  by  her 
full  name,  that  is,  Beatrice),  who  was  perhaps 
ei^ht  years  old,  very  comely — for  her  a^e — 
and  very  gentle  and  pleasing  in  her  actions, 
with  ways  and  words  more  serious  and  modest 
than  her  youth  required;  and  besides  this,  with 
features  very  delicate  and  well  formed,  and,  fur- 
ther, so  full  of  beauty  and  of  sweet  winsomeness 
that  she  was  declared  by  many  to  be  like  a  little 
an^el.  She,  then, —  such  as  I  paint  her  and 
perhaps  even  more  beautiful  —  appeared  at 
this  feast  to  the  eyes  of  our  Dante, — not,  I  be- 
lieve, for  the  first  time,  but  for  the  first  time 
with  power  to  enamour  him.  And  although  a 
mere  boy,  he  received  her  sweet  image  in  his 
heart  with  such  affection  that  from  that  day 
forward  it  never  departed  thence  while  he 
lived.  At  what  hour  this  happened  no  one 
knows;  but  (whether  it  was  the  likeness  of 
their  temperaments  or  characters,  or  some  spe- 
cial influence  of  heaven  having  that  effect;  or, 
as  we  know  by  experience  in  feasts,  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  music,  the  common  joy,  the  deli- 
cacy of  meats  and  wines,  that  make  the  hearts 
of  mature  men  —  much  more  of  youth — ex- 
pand and  become  fit  to  be  easily  caught  by 


46  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

whatever  pleases  them)  this  certainly  hap- 
pened, that  Dante,  at  his  tender  age,  became  a 
most  fervent  slave  of  love.  Letting  pass  the 
discussion  of  the  trivial  accidents  of  youth,  I  say 
that  with  age  the  flames  of  his  love  increased, 
so  that  nothing  else  was  pleasure  or  repose  or 
comfort  to  him  except  seeing  her.  Leaving, 
therefore,  all  else,  he  would  go  most  assidu- 
ously where  he  believed  that  he  could  see  her, 
as  if  from  her  face  and  eyes  he  must  attain  his 
every  happiness  and  complete  consolation. 

Oh,  senseless  judgment  of  lovers!  Who 
else  but  they  would  think  by  adding  to  the  fuel 
to  make  the  flames  less?  What  thoughts  were 
his,  what  sighs,  what  tears,  and  what  other 
grievous  passions  he  suffered  in  later  life  for 
this  love,  he  himself  in  part  shows  us  in  his 
New  Life,  and  therefore  I  do  not  care  to  re- 
count them  more  in  detail.  Only  this  I  do  not 
wish  to  pass  without  mention,  that,  as  he  him- 
self writes  and  as  others  to  whom  bis  desire 
was  known  report,  his  love  was  most  virtuous, 
nor  did  there  ever  appear,  by  look  or  word  or 
sign,  any  wanton  appetite  either  in  the  lover  or 
in  her  whom  he  loved.  This  is  no  small 
marvel  to  the  world  of  to-day,  from  which  all 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE  47 

virtuous  pleasure  has  so  fled,  and  which  is  so 
accustomed  to  having  whatever  pleases  it  con- 
form to  its  lust,  even  before  it  has  concluded 
to  love,  that  it  has  become  a  miracle,  inasmuch 
as  it  is  the  rarest  of  things,  that  one  could 
love  otherwise.  If  so  ^reat  and  so  lasting 
love  could  keep  him  from  food,  sleep,  and  all 
manner  of  rest,  what  power  must  we  think  it 
had  as  an  adversary  of  his  sacred  studies  and 
his  genius!  No  small  power,  certainly,  al- 
though many  will  have  it  that  love  incited  his 
genius,  proving  this  by  his  graceful  rhymes  in 
the  Florentine  idiom,  which  were  made  by  him 
in  praise  of  his  beloved  lady  and  for  the  expres- 
sion of  his  ardors  and  his  amorous  conceits; 
but  I  can  certainly  not  yield  this  without  con- 
ceding that  ornate  discourse  is  the  principal 
part  of  every  science,  which  is  not  true. 

As  everyone  can  plainly  understand,  there 
is  nothing  stable  in  this  world,  and  if  there  be 
anything  that  is  easily  changed,  it  is  our  life. 
A  little  too  much  cold  or  heat,  letting  pass 
numberless  other  accidents  and  possibilities, 
brings  us  without  difficulty  from  being  to  not 
being;  nor  is  gentility,  riches,  youth,  or  any 
other  mundane  dignity  exempt  from  this.    The 


48  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

weight  of  this  common  law  Dante  must  needs 
learn  by  another's  death  before  his  own.  The 
beautiful  Beatrice  was  nearly  at  the  end  of  her 
twenty-fourth  year,  when,  as  pleased  Him  who 
is  all-powerful,  she  left  the  anguish  of  this 
world  and  departed  to  the  ^lory  which  her  own 
merits  had  prepared  for  her.  At  her  departure 
Dante  was  left  in  such  sorrow,  ^rief,  and  tears 
that  many  of  those  nearest  him,  both  relatives 
and  friends,  believed  there  would  be  no  other 
end  to  them  except  his  death;  and  this  they 
thought  must  come  quickly,  seeing  that  he  gave 
ear  to  no  comfort  or  consolation  offered  him. 
The  days  were  like  the  nights  and  the  nights 
the  days;  and  no  hour  of  either  passed  without 
cries  and  sighs  and  a  great  quantity  of  tears. 
His  eyes  seemed  two  copious  fountains  of  flow- 
ing water,  so  that  most  marveled  whence  he 
acquired  enough  moisture  to  supply  his  weep- 
ing. But,  even  as  we  see  that  passions  by  long 
custom  become  easy  to  bear,  and  similarly  that 
in  time  all  things  diminish  and  perish,  it  hap- 
pened that  Dante  in  the  course  of  several 
months  came  to  remember  without  tears  that 
Beatrice  was  dead;  and  with  better  judgment, 
as  sorrow  gave  place  somewhat  to  reason,  he 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE  49 

came  to  recognize  that  neither  weeping  nor 
si^hs  nor  anything  else  could  restore  to  him  his 
lost  lady.  Therefore,  with  more  patience,  he 
set  himself  to  sustain  the  loss  of  her  presence, 
nor  did  much  time  pass  after  his  tears  were 
stopped  before  his  si^hs,  which  were  even  then 
near  their  end,  be^an  in  ^reat  measure  to  de- 
part and  not  return  again. 

He  was,  by  his  weeping  and  the  pain  that 
his  heart  felt  within  him,  and  by  his  taking  no 
care  of  himself,  become  outwardly  almost  a 
wild  thing  to  look  upon,  lean,  unshaven,  and 
almost  completely  transformed  from  what  he 
had  been  wont  to  be  before;  so  that  his  as- 
pect perforce  made  compassionate  not  only  his 
friends,  but  everyone  who  saw  him;  although 
while  this  tearful  life  of  his  lasted,  he  let  him- 
self be  seen  but  little  by  others  than  friends. 
This  compassion  and  their  fear  of  the  worst 
made  his  relatives  attentive  to  his  comfort, 
and  when  they  saw  his  tears  stop  and  dis- 
covered that  his  sighs  gave  some  relief  to  his 
troubled  heart,  they  began  again  to  press  on 
the  disconsolate  lover  the  consolation  so  long 
withheld.  And  he,  who  up  to  that  time  had 
obstinately  kept  his  ears  shut  to  all  consola- 

4 


50  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

tion,  now  began  not  only  to  open  them  some- 
what, but  to  listen  willingly  to  that  which  was 
said  with  regard  to  his  comfort.  Seeing  this, 
his  relatives,  in  order  that  they  might  not  only 
withdraw  him  entirely  from  his  grief,  but  bring 
him  back  to  joy  again,  took  counsel  together 
with  regard  to  giving  him  a  wife,  that,  as  his 
lost  lady  had  been  the  occasion  of  grief,  so  one 
newly  acquired  might  be  the  cause  of  gladness. 
They  found  a  young  girl  who  was  suitable  for 
his  station,  and  with  the  arguments  that  ap- 
peared to  them  most  convincing  they  dis- 
covered to  him  their  intention.  And  that  I 
may  not  treat  each  point  in  detail,  after  a  long 
discussion  and  after  considerable  time,  their 
arguments  were  effective  and  he  was  married. 
Oh,  blind  minds;  oh,  darkened  intellects; 
oh,  vain  reasoning  of  many  mortals!  How 
often  is  the  outcome  in  many  matters  contrary 
to  your  advice,  and  oftenest  without  reason! 
What  sort  of  man  would  he  be  who,  on  pre- 
tence of  excessive  heat,  should  take  one  away 
from  the  sweet  air  of  Italy  to  the  burning 
sands  of  Libya  for  refreshment,  or  to  warm  him 
should  take  him  from  the  Isle  of  Cyprus  to  the 
eternal  shades  of  the  Rhodopean  Mountains? 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE  51 

What  physician  would  endeavor  to  expel  an 
acute  fever  with  fire,  or  a  chill  in  the  marrow 
of  one's  bones  with  ice  or  snow?  Certainly  no 
one,  if  not  he  who  shall  think  by  a  bride  to  less- 
en the  tribulations  of  love.  They  who  think 
to  do  this  do  not  understand  the  nature  of  love, 
nor  how  it  adds  every  other  passion  to  itself. 
In  vain  is  aid  or  counsel  pitted  against  its  force 
if  it  has  once  taken  firm  root  in  the  heart  of 
one  who  has  long  loved.  Even  as  at  first  the 
slightest  resistance  is  helpful,  so  in  process  of 
time  the  stoutest  is  wont  often  to  be  harmful. 
But  it  is  time  to  return  to  our  subject,  and  to 
concede  for  the  present  that  there  may  be 
things  which  can  avail  to  make  one  forget  the 
troubles  of  love. 

What,  however,  has  he  done  who,  to  relieve 
me  of  an  annoying  thought,  brings  me  others  a 
thousand  times  greater  and  more  annoying? 
Certainly  nothing,  if  not  that  by  adding  to  my 
ills  he  has  made  me  desire  to  return  to  those 
from  which  he  has  drawn  me, —  a  situation 
which  we  often  see  occur  in  the  case  of  many, 
who,  to  escape  or  be  drawn  from  trouble, 
blindly  marry  or  are  married  by  others;  nor  do 
they  perceive  that,  escaping  from  one  tangle. 


52  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

they  have  entered  into  a  thousand,  until  ex- 
perience proves  it  to  them  when  they  can  no 
longer  change  their  minds  and  go  back.  His 
relatives  and  friends  gave  Dante  a  wife,  in 
order  that  his  tears  for  Beatrice  might  cease. 
But  I  do  not  know  whether,  although  his  tears 
passed  away  —  or  rather,  perhaps,  had  passed 
away, —  the  flame  of  love  on  that  account 
passed  away.  Indeed,  I  do  not  believe  it;  but, 
granted  that  it  was  extinguished,  new  and 
greater  troubles  could  come  upon  him.  Accus- 
tomed to  devote  himself  by  night  to  his  sacred 
studies  as  often  as  was  pleasing  to  him,  he  con- 
versed and  discussed  with  emperors,  kings, 
and  all  other  most  exalted  princes  of  the  earth, 
and  found  pleasure  in  the  most  delightful  poets, 
calming  his  own  sorrows  by  listening  to  theirs. 
Now  he  is  with  them  only  so  much  as  is 
pleasing  to  his  bride,  and  such  time  as  she 
wills  to  withdraw  him  from  such  high  com- 
pany he  must  spend  in  listening  to  womanish 
conversation,  which,  if  he  would  not  increase 
his  annoyance,  he  must  against  his  will  not 
only  assent  to  but  praise.  Accustomed,  when- 
ever the  vulgar  crowd  wearied  him,  to  with- 
draw himself   into   some   solitary  place,  and 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE  53 

there  to  speculate  what  spirit  moves  the 
heaven,  whence  comes  the  life  of  all  animals 
on  earth,  and  what  are  the  causes  of  things; 
or  brood  on  rare  conceits;  or  compose  verses 
whose  fame  should  after  his  death  make  him 
live  to  posterity, —  he  is  now  not  only  deprived 
of  all  this  sweet  contemplation  at  the  whim  of 
his  bride,  but  he  must  needs  have  company  ill 
fitted  for  such  practices.  Accustomed  freely 
to  laugh,  to  weep,  to  sing,  or  to  sigh,  accord- 
ing as  sweet  or  bitter  passions  moved  him,  he 
now  dares  not  to  do  so,  and  must  give  account 
to  his  wife,  not  only  of  greater  things  but  even 
of  the  slightest  sigh,  showing  what  was  its 
origin,  whence  it  came,  and  whither  it  went; 
for  she  thinks  his  joy  occasioned  by  love  for 
some  one  else;  his  sadness,  by  hate  for  her. 

Oh,  weariness  not  to  be  reckoned,  that  of 
having  to  live,  to  converse,  and  finally  grow  old 
and  die  with  such  a  suspicious  animal  !  I  let 
pass  the  new  and  weighty  troubles  which  must 
be  borne  by  those  unaccustomed  to  them,  es- 
pecially in  our  city,  namely,  the  providing  of 
clothing,  ornaments,  rooms  full  of  superfluous 
luxuries  which  women  make  themselves  be- 
lieve are  necessary  for  living  properly;  the  pro- 

4* 


54  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

vidin^  of  men-servants,  and  women-servants, 
and  nurses,  and  chambermaids;  the  providing 
of  dinners,  and  ^ifts,  and  the  presents  which 
must  be  ^iven  to  brides'  relatives,  whom  hus- 
bands want  their  wives  to  think  that  they 
love;  and  in  addition  other  things  which  free 
men  never  previously  understand.  I  now  come 
to  things  which  it  is  impossible  to  avoid.  Who 
doubts  that  people  at  large  judge  one's  wife,  as 
to  whether  she  is  fair  or  not  fair?  If  she  be 
reputed  fair,  who  can  doubt  that  she  will  at 
once  have  many  admirers,  of  whom  one  will 
importunately  attack  her  unstable  heart  by  his 
beauty,  another  by  his  rank,  by  wondrous  flat- 
tery, gifts,  or  pleasing  manners?  And  that 
which  many  desire  is  with  difficulty  protected 
by  one;  and  it  is  only  necessary  that  women's 
chastity  should  be  once  overtaken  to  make 
them  ever  infamous  and  their  husbands  ever 
unhappy.  If  by  the  ill-luck  of  him  who  leads 
her  to  his  house  she  be  ugly, —  we  can  plainly 
see  that  men  often  enough  and  speedily  tire 
even  of  the  fairest, — what  then  can  we  think  of 
such  women  if  not  that  their  husbands  will  hate 
not  only  them  but  every  place  in  which  they 
may  be  thought  to  be  found  by  those  who  must 


LOVE  AND  MARRIAGE  55 

have  them  always  with  them.  Hence  springs 
their  wrath  ;  nor  is  any  wild  beast  fiercer  or 
so  fierce  as  an  an^ry  woman  ;  nor  can  a  man 
be  sure  of  his  life  who  is  committed  to  one 
who  thinks  that  she  has  reason  to  consider 
herself  wronged;  and  that  they  all  think. 

What  shall  I  say  of  their  ways?  If  I  should 
show  how  often  and  to  what  extent  they  are 
inimical  to  the  peace  and  repose  of  men,  I 
should  extend  my  essay  to  too  ^reat  a  length, 
and  therefore  it  is  sufficient  to  mention  one 
trait  common  to  almost  all.  They  think  that 
^ood  conduct  on  the  part  of  the  lowest  servant 
is  sufficient  to  retain  him  in  a  house  and  the 
opposite  to  dismiss  him.  Therefore  they  think 
that,  if  they  themselves  do  well,  their  lot  is 
nothing  else  than  that  of  a  servant,  and  they 
believe  that  they  are  ladies  only  when,  notwith- 
standing bad  conduct,  they  are  not  like  ser- 
vants dismissed.  Why  should  I  state  in  detail 
that  which  most  of  us  know?  I  jud^e  that  it  is 
better  to  keep  silence  than  to  displease  charm- 
ing women  by  speaking.  Who  does  not  know 
that  everything  which  is  bought  is  tried  by  the 
purchaser  before  he  buys  it,  except  a  wife, — 
that  he  may  see  if  she  does  not  please  him  be- 


56  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

fore  be  takes  her  home?  Whoever  takes  a  wife 
must  needs  have,  not  that  which  he  wants,  but 
that  which  fortune  grants  him.  And  if  what 
has  been  said  above  is  true  (and  he  who  has 
experienced  it  knows),  we  can  imagine  what 
sorrow  is  concealed  in  rooms  which  from  with- 
out, by  those  whose  eyes  cannot  penetrate  the 
walls,  are  reputed  places  of  joy.  Of  course,  I 
do  not  affirm  that  these  things  fell  to  Dante's 
lot,  for  I  do  not  know;  although  it  is  true  that 
either  things  of  this  sort  or  others  must  have 
been  the  reason  why,  when  he  was  once  parted 
from  her  who  was  given  to  him  for  the  consola- 
tion of  his  grief,  he  never  would  come  where 
she  was,  or  suffer  that  she  should  come  where 
he  was,  although  he  had  been  by  her  the  father 
of  several  children.  Let  no  one  believe  that  by 
what  has  been  said  above  I  would  conclude 
that  men  should  not  marry.  On  the  contrary, 
I  recommend  marriage,  but  not  to  all.  Let 
philosophers  leave  it  to  the  rich  and  foolish,  to 
nobles  and  to  peasants,  and  let  them  take  their 
delight  with  philosophy,  a  much  better  bride 
than  any. 


IV 


DANTE'S    FAMILY   CARES,  HONORS 
AND   EXILE 


'T  is  the  nature  of  temporal 
things  that  one  is  the  cause 
of  another.  His  family  cares 
drew  Dante  to  cares  of  the 
state,  in  which  the  vain 
honors  which  are  joined  to 
public  offices  so  entangled  him  that,  without 
noticing  whence  he  had  started  or  where  he 
was  going,  he  gave  himself  up  almost  entirely, 
with  loosened  rein,  to  the  government  of  the 
state;  and  fortune  was  in.  this  so  far  favorable 
to  him  that  no  embassy  was  heard  or  answered, 


58  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

no  law  passed  or  repealed,  no  peace  made,  no 
war  be^un,  and,  in  short,  no  discussion  of  any 
weight  undertaken  unless  be  first  ^ave  bis  opin- 
ion witb  regard  to  it.  In  bim  seemed  to  rest 
tbe  public  faitb,  in  bim  all  bope, —  in  bim,  in 
sbort,  all  tbings,  botb  divine  and  buman.  But 
fortune,  wbo  overrides  our  plans  and  is  tbe 
enemy  of  all  buman  stability,  tbou^b  sbe  bad 
kept  him  some  years,  in  power  and  ^lory,  at  tbe 
top  of  her  wheel,  at  last  brought  bim,  when  be 
trusted  her  too  much,  to  an  end  very  different 
from  the  be^innin^. 

In  his  time  tbe  citizens  of  Florence  were 
perversely  divided  into  two  parties,  each  of 
which  was  powerful  through  tbe  efforts  of  its 
acute  and  sagacious  leaders;  so  that  some- 
times one  and  sometimes  tbe  other  ruled  tbe 
city,  against  the  desire  of  the  defeated  party. 
On  tbe  plan  of  uniting  tbe  divided  body  of 
bis  republic,  Dante  brought  to  bear  all  bis 
genius,  art,  and  learning,  showing  to  the  clear- 
est beaded  citizens  how  great  things  in  a 
sbort  time  come  to  nought  by  discord,  and 
bow  by  concord  small  things  increase  infi- 
nitely. But  when  be  saw  his  trouble  was  with- 
out avail,  and  recognized  that  the  minds  of  his 


CARES,  HONORS,  AND  EXILE  59 

hearers  were  obstinate,  believing  it  to  be  the 
will  of  God,  he  first  purposed  to  leave  all 
public  offices  and  to  live  privately.  Then, 
drawn  by  the  sweetness  of  ^lory,  the  empty 
favor  of  the  people,  and  the  persuasions  of 
his  elders,  and  believing  further  that,  if  the 
time  were  favorable  to  him,  he  could  effect 
much  more  ^ood  for  his  city  if  he  were  great 
in  public  affairs  than  if  he  lived  privately 
and  took  no  share  in  them  (foolish  desire  for 
worldly  splendor,  how  much  greater  is  thy 
strength  than  one  can  believe  who  has  not  ex- 
perienced it!),  this  mature  man,  brought  up  in 
the  holy  bosom  of  philosophy,  there  nourished 
and  taught,  before  whose  eyes  was  the  fall  of 
ancient  and  modern  kings,  the  desolation  of 
kingdoms,  provinces,  and  cities,  and  the  furi- 
ous onsets  of  fortune,  who  seeks  nothing  else 
than  the  highest,  had  not  the  knowledge  or  the 
power  to  protect  himself  from  thy  charm. 

Dante  then  decided  to  follow  the  fleeting 
honors  and  vain  pomp  of  public  office  ;  and, 
seeing  that  by  himself  he  could  not  form  a  third 
party,  which  by  justice  should  defeat  the  injus- 
tice of  the  other  two,  restoring  them  to  unity, 
attached  himself  to  the  party  which  in  his  judg- 


60  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

merit  had  most  reason  and  justice  on  its  side, 
working  continually  for  that  which  he  knew  to 
be  wholesome  for  the  city  and  the  citizens. 
But  the  plans  of  man  are  most  often  defeated 
by  the  power  of  heaven.  Hatred  and  ani- 
mosity were  engendered,  although  without  just 
cause,  and  ^rew  greater  from  day  to  day,  so 
that,  to  the  great  confusion  of  the  citizens,  men 
often  came  to  arms  with  the  intention  of  put- 
ting an  end  to  their  quarrel  by  fire  and  sword, 
—  so  blinded  were  they  by  anger  that  they  did 
not  see  that  they  themselves  must  thus  miser- 
ably perish.  But  after  each  of  the  parties  had 
many  times  proved  its  strength  with  mutual 
loss,  the  time  came  when  the  secret  designs 
of  menacing  fortune  should  be  disclosed. 
Rumor,  who  reports  equally  the  false  and  the 
true,  announced  that  the  adversaries  of  the 
party  espoused  by  Dante  were  strong  in  won- 
drous and  subtle  plans  and  in  a  great  multitude 
of  armed  men.  She  thus  so  terrified  the  leaders 
of  Dante's  colleagues  that  she  deprived  them  of 
all  plan,  forethought,  and  motive,  except  that  of 
seeking  safety  in  flight.  Together  with  them 
Dante,  degraded  in  a  moment  from  the  highest 
places  of  rule  in  the  city,  saw  himself  not  only 


CARES,  HONORS,  AND  EXILE  61 

fallen  to  earth,  but  thrust  out.  Not  many  days 
after  this,  the  mob  having  already  rushed  to 
the  houses  of  the  exiles  and  madly  gutted  and 
sacked  them,  the  victors  reorganized  the  city 
according  to  their  will,  and  all  the  leaders  of 
the  opposite  party,  and  with  them  Dante,  not 
as  one  of  the  less  but  as  almost  the  chief,  were, 
as  capital  enemies  of  the  republic,  condemned 
to  perpetual  exile,  and  their  estates  either  con- 
fiscated for  the  public  benefit,  or  alienated  to 
the  victors. 

This  reward  Dante  received  for  the  tender 
love  he  had  for  his  country  !  This  reward 
Dante  received  for  his  toil  in  trying  to  do  away 
with  public  discord  !  This  reward  Dante  re- 
ceived for  having  at  all  costs  sought  the  good, 
the  peace,  and  the  tranquillity  of  his  fellow-citi- 
zens !  It  must  thus  be  plainly  manifest  how 
empty  of  truth  are  the  favors  of  the  people  and 
what  trust  can  be  put  in  them.  He  in  whom 
but  a  little  while  before  the  city  had  placed  its 
faith  and  affection,  who  was  the  refuge  of  the 
people,  was  now  suddenly,  without  legitimate 
cause,  without  crime  or  fault,  by  that  Rumor 
who  had  many  times  before  been  heard  bear- 
ing his  praises  to  the  stars,  madly  sent  into  ir- 


62  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

revocable  exile.  This  was  the  marble  statue 
erected  to  the  eternal  memory  of  his  virtue! 
With  these  letters  was  his  name  inscribed  on 
tables  of  ^old  amon^  those  of  the  fathers  of  the 
country!  By  a  thus  favorable  report  were 
thanks  returned  him  for  his  kindnesses!  Who, 
looking  at  these  things,  will  say  that  our  re- 
public does  not  ^o  lame  on  this  foot  ? 

Oh,  vain  confidence  of  mortal  men,  by  what 
^reat  examples  art  thou  continually  reproved, 
admonished,  and  chastised?  Ah,  if  Camillus, 
Rutilius,  Coriolanus,  both  Scipios,  and  the 
other  ancient  men  of  worth  have  escaped  thy 
memory  through  the  length  of  time  that  has  in- 
tervened, this  recent  instance  should  make  thee 
run  after  thy  pleasures  in  a  more  temperate 
way.  Nothing  has  less  stability  than  the  favor 
of  the  people;  no  hope  is  more  mad,  no  plan 
more  insane,  than  that  which  encourages  one 
to  put  his  trust  therein.  Let  then  our  hearts 
be  raised  to  heaven,  in  whose  perpetual  law, 
in  whose  eternal  splendors,  in  whose  veritable 
beauty  can  be  recognized  without  obscurity  the 
stability  of  Him  who  rules  both  worlds  by  rea- 
son, in  order  that,  leaving  transitory  things,  all 
our  hope  may  be  directed  to  Him  as  to  a  fixed 
^oal,  and  we  be  not  deceived. 


DANTE'S   FLIGHT   FROM   FLORENCE 
AND   TRAVELS 


'N  such  a  manner,  then,  Dante 
departed  from  the  city  of 
which  not  only  he  was  a  citi- 
zen but  his  ancestors  were 
the  rebuilders,  leaving  there 
his  wife,  together  with  the 
rest  of  his  family,  whose  youth  ill  fitted  them 
for  flight.  At  ease  about  her,  because  of  her 
relationship  to  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the  other 
party,  but  uncertain  with  regard  to  himself,  he 
wandered  here  and  there  through  Tuscany. 
A  small  portion  of  his  property  his  wife  had 
with  difficulty  defended  from  the  infuriated 
people,  under  the  title  of  her  dowry,  and  on  the 


64  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

proceeds  of  this  she  managed  to  provide  very 
plainly  for  herself  and  the  little  children.  He, 
therefore,  was  forced  in  poverty  to  win  his  sus- 
tenance for  himself  by  unaccustomed  labor. 
Oh,  what  honest  indignation  must  he  repress, 
more  bitter  to  him  than  death,  while  hope 
promised  him  that  his  exile  would  be  brief 
and  his  return  speedy.  Against  his  expecta- 
tion, however,  he  remained  many  years,  leav- 
ing Verona  (where  in  the  first  years  of  his 
flight  he  had  ^one  to  Alberto  della  Scala,  by 
whom  he  had  been  kindly  received),  now  with 
Count  Salvatico  in  the  Casentino,  now  with 
the  Marquis  Moruello  Malaspina  in  Luni^i- 
ana,  now  with  the  della  Faggiuola  in  the  moun- 
tains near  Urbino,  suitably  honored,  so  far  as 
the  period  and  the  means  of  his  hosts  permit- 
ted. Then  he  went  to  Bologna,  where  he 
stayed  a  little  while,  and  then  to  Padua,  and 
then  returned  again  to  Verona.  But  after  he 
saw  the  way  closed  on  all  sides  against  his  re- 
turn, and  his  hopes  grew  more  vain  from  day 
to  day,  leaving  not  only  Tuscany  but  all  Italy, 
he  crossed  the  mountains  which  separate  it 
from  the  province  of  Gaul,  as  best  he  could, 
and  went  to  Paris.    Here  he  gave  himself  up 


FLIGHT  AND  TRAVELS  65 

entirely  to  the  study  of  both  philosophy  and 
theology,  recalling  also  what  of  the  other  sci- 
ences he  had  perchance  lost  by  these  impedi- 
ments. And  while  he  thus  spent  his  time  in 
study,  it  happened,  contrary  to  his  expectation, 
that  Henry,  Count  of  Luxemburg,  was,  at  the 
mandate  and  with  the  good  will  of  Clement 
V,  who  was  then  Pope,  elected  King  of  the 
Romans,  and  then  crowned  Emperor.  Dante, 
hearing  that  he  had  left  Germany  to  subjugate 
Italy,  which  was  in  fact  rebellious  against  his 
majesty,  and  that  he  had  already  laid  siege  to 
Brescia  with  powerful  arm  ;  and  expecting  for 
many  reasons  that  the  Emperor  would  be  vic- 
torious, he  conceived  the  hope  that  through 
the  Emperor's  power  and  justice  he  could  re- 
turn again  to  Florence,  though  he  knew  that 
she  was  against  the  Emperor.  Therefore, 
crossing  the  Alps  again,  he  joined  the  enemies 
of  the  Florentines  and  their  party,  and  by  em- 
bassies and  letters  tried  to  draw  the  Emperor 
from  the  siege  of  Brescia,  in  order  that  he 
should  lay  siege  to  Florence,  as  the  chief  of  his 
enemies,  showing  him  that,  if  she  were  con- 
quered, he  would  have  little  or  no  difficulty  in 
attaining  free  and  unimpeded  possession  and 
5 


66  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

power  over  all  Italy.  But  although  he  and 
others  with  the  same  purpose  succeeded  in 
drawing  the  Emperor  thither,  his  coming  did 
not  have  the  result  they  expected.  The  resist- 
ance was  vigorous,  and  much  greater  than  they 
had  anticipated.  Wherefore,  without  having 
accomplished  anything  in  particular,  the  Em- 
peror departed  almost  in  despair,  and  turned 
his  way  towards  Rome.  And  although  in  one 
direction  and  another  he  accomplished  much, 
brought  about  order,  and  planned  to  do  more, 
his  too  sudden  death  put  an  end  to  everything. 
At  this,  in  general,  those  who  bad  expectations 
by  him  became  discouraged,  and  especially 
Dante,  who,  without  making  further  efforts  re- 
garding his  return,  passed  over  the  Apennines 
and  went  into  Romagna,  where  his  last  day, 
which  was  to  put  an  end  to  all  his  troubles, 
awaited  him. 

In  those  days  there  was  Lord  of  Ravenna,  a 
famous  and  ancient  city  of  Romagna,  a  noble 
knight,  whose  name  was  Guido  Novello  da  Po- 
lenta. Trained  in  liberal  studies,  he  paid  high 
honors  to  men  of  worth  and  especially  those 
who  surpassed  others  in  knowledge.  When  it 
came  to  his  ears  that  Dante,  beyond  all  expec- 


FLIGHT  AND  TRAVELS  67 

tation, — for  he  had  lon^  before  recognized  his 
worth  by  repute, —  was  in  Romagna  in  great 
despair,  he  decided  to  receive  and  honor  him. 
Nor  did  he  wait  for  this  to  be  asked  of  him. 
With  a  liberal  mind,  reflecting  how  men  of 
worth  must  feel  shame  in  asking  favors,  he  ap- 
proached him  with  proffers,  asking  of  Dante 
as  a  special  favor  that  which  he  knew  Dante 
must  ask  of  him — that  is,  that  he  would  be 
pleased  to  reside  with  him.  The  two  desires, 
that  of  the  asker  and  him  who  was  asked,  thus 
concurring  in  the  same  end,  and  Dante  being 
extremely  pleased  at  the  liberality  of  the  noble 
knight,  and  on  the  other  hand  necessity  con- 
straining him, — without  awaiting  more  invita- 
tions than  one,  he  went  to  Ravenna,  where  he 
was  honorably  received  by  the  knight,  who 
revived  with  kindly  encouragement  his  failing 
hopes,  gave  him  in  abundance  all  that  was  fit- 
ting, and  kept  him  there  for  many  years, —  in- 
deed, to  the  end  of  his  life. 

Not  desires  of  love,  nor  tears  of  grief,  nor 
household  cares,  nor  the  tempting  glory  of  pub- 
lic office,  nor  miserable  exile,  nor  intolerable 
poverty,  could  by  their  power  ever  divert  Dante 
from  his  principal  intent — that  is,  his  sacred 


68  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

studies.  For,  as  will  be  seen  afterwards  when 
his  works  are  treated  separately,  in  the  midst 
of  the  fiercest  passions  mentioned  above,  he 
will  be  found  to  have  exercised  himself  in  com- 
position. And  if  in  spite  of  such  adversaries, 
the  number  and  character  of  which  have  been 
stated  above,  he  by  force  of  intellect  and  perse- 
verance became  as  illustrious  as  we  see  him  to 
be,  what  could  be  hoped  that  he  would  have 
become  if  he  had  had  as  much  to  help  him,  or 
nothing  working  against  him,  or  very  few  hin- 
drances, as  many  have?  Surely,  I  do  not 
know,  but  if  it  were  proper  to  say  so,  I  should 
say  that  he  would  have  become  a  god  on  earth. 


VI 


HIS  DEATH  AND  FUNERAL  HONORS 


'ANTE,  then,  lived  for  many 
years  in  Ravenna, — all  hope 
of  ever  returning  to  Florence 
lost,  although  the  desire  was 
not  lost, —  under  the  protec- 
tion of  this  gracious  lord;  and 
here  by  his  teachings  trained  many  scholars  in 
poetry,  and  especially  in  the  vulgar  tongue, 
which,  according  to  my  judgment,  he  was  the 
first  to  exalt  and  make  esteemed  among  us 
Italians,  precisely  as  Homer  made  his  tongue 
esteemed  among  the  Greeks  and  Virgil  his 
among  the  Latins.  Before  him,  although  it 
is  true  that  it  had  been  invented  a  short  space 
of  time  previously,  there  was  no  one  who  had 


70  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

the  feeling  and  the  hardihood  to  make  the  lan- 
^ua^e  the  instrument  of  any  artistic  material 
by  numbering  of  syllables  and  the  consonance 
of  the  extreme  outward  parts  ;  rather  they  only 
exercised  themselves  in  it  on  love  trifles.  He 
showed  by  his  results  that  any  hi^h  material 
could  be  treated  in  it,  and  made  our  vulvar 
tongue  glorious  above  all  others. 

But  since  the  allotted  hour  cometh  to  all, 
having  in  the  middle  or  thereabout  of  his  fifty- 
sixth  year  fallen  sick,  and  having  received  all 
the  sacraments  of  the  Church,  according  to  the 
Christian  religion,  humbly  and  with  devotion, 
and  reconciled  himself  with  God  in  contrition 
for  all  that  he  had  committed  against  His 
will  as  a  mortal,  in  the  month  of  September 
in  the  year  of  Christ  MCCCXXI,  on  the  day 
that  the  exaltation  of  the  holy  cross  is  cele- 
brated by  the  Church,  to  the  ^reat  sorrow  of 
the  aforesaid  Guido  and  of  all  the  other  citi- 
zens of  Ravenna  generally,  he  rendered  up  to 
his  Creator  his  wearied  spirit,  which,  I  doubt 
not,  was  received  in  the  arms  of  his  noble  Bea- 
trice, with  whom,  in  the  si^ht  of  Him  who  is 
the  highest  ^ood,  all  the  miseries  of  the  pres- 
ent life  left  behind,  he  now  lives  most  joyfully  in 


DEATH  AND  FUNERAL  HONORS         71 

that  life  to  whose  happiness  there  shall   be 
no  end. 

The  generous  knight  had  the  dead,  body  of 
Dante  placed  upon  a  funeral  bier  adorned  with 
poetic  insignia,  and  this  he  had  borne  upon  the 
shoulders  of  the  most  illustrious  citizens  to  the 
place  of  the  Lesser  Friars  in  Ravenna,  with  the 
honor  that  he  thought  due  to  such  a  body. 
When  it  had  been  followed  thither  as  it  were 
by  public  lamentation,  he  had  it  placed  in  the 
stone  coffin  in  which  it  still  lies.  And  return- 
ing to  the  house  in  which  Dante  had  lived,  he 
himself,  according  to  the  custom  in  Ravenna, 
made  a  lon^  and  eloquent  address,  both  to  com- 
mend the  hi^h  learning  and  virtue  of  the  de- 
ceased and  to  console  the  friends  whom  he 
had  left  behind  him  in  this  life  of  sorrow.  He 
also  purposed,  if  bis  life  and  estate  had  lasted, 
to  honor  him  with  such  a  distinguished  tomb 
that,  if  nothing  else  Dante  had  done  had  ren- 
dered him  memorable  to  posterity,  this  would 
have  done  so. 

This  praiseworthy  proposal  was  made  known 
in  a  brief  space  of  time  to  many  who  at  that  time 
were  distinguished  poets  in  Romagna,  so  that 
each  one,  both  to  show  his  own  skill  and  to  bear 


72  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

witness  to  the  ^ood  will  borne  by  them  to  the 
dead  poet,  and  to  win  the  favor  and  love  of  their 
lord,  who  they  knew  desired  it,  wrote  verses 
which,  placed  as  an  epitaph  on  the  proposed 
tomb,  would,  with  appropriate  praise,  indicate 
to  posterity  who  lay  therein.  These  poems  they 
sent  to  the  noble  lord,  who,  by^reat  misfortune, 
lost  his  estate,  and  not  long  after  died  at  Bo- 
logna, for  which  reason  both  the  making  of  the 
tomb  and  the  inscribing  on  it  of  the  verses  sent 
him  were  left  undone.  These  verses  were  shown 
to  me  long  afterwards,  and  seeing  that  they 
were  not  used  through  the  accident  already 
mentioned,  and  thinking  that  what  I  am  now 
writing,  although  not  a  material  tomb,  still  may 
serve,  as  that  would  have  served,  to  preserve 
his  memory  forever,  I  judged  it  to  be  not  inap- 
propriate to  add  them  here.  But  inasmuch  as 
only  one  of  those  which  were  written  (and  they 
were  many)  would  have  been  inscribed  on  the 
marble,  so  only  one  of  them  here  is  it,  I  think, 
necessary  to  insert.  Wherefore,  having  exam- 
ined them  all,  I  find  the  most  worthy  in  form 
and  sense  to  be  fourteen  verses  by  Master  Gio- 
vanni del  Virgilio  of  Bologna,  then  a  great  and 
famous  poet  and  an  intimate  friend  of  Dante. 


DEATH  AND  FUNERAL  HONORS         73 
The  verses  are  these: 

Theolo^us  Dantes,  nullius  dogmatis  expers, 

Quod  foveat  claro  philosophia  sinu: 
Gloria  musarum,  vul^o  ^ratissimus  auctor, 

Hie  iacet,  et  fama  pulsat  utrumque  polum: 
Qui  loca  defunctis  ^ladiis  re^numque  ^emellis 

Distribuit,  laicis  rhetoricisque  modis. 
Pascua  Pieriis  demum  resonabat  avenis; 

Atropos  heu  letum  livida  rupit  opus. 
Huic  ingrata  tulit  tristem  Florentia  fructum, 

Exilium,  vati  patria  cruda  suo. 
Quern  pia  Guidonis  premio  Ravenna  Novelli 

Gaudet  honorati  continuisse  ducis, 
Mille  trecentenis  ter  septum  Numinis  annis, 

Ad  sua  septembris  idibus  astra  redit. 

[Dante,  the  theologian,  unversed  in  no  teaching  that  Phi- 
losophy may  cherish  in  her  illustrious  bosom,  the  glory  of 
the  Muses,  an  author  most  pleasing  to  the  people,  lies 
here,  his  fame  reaching  either  pole.  To  the  dead  he  as- 
signed their  places  and  their  realm,  with  twin  swords,  in  laic 
and  rhetoric  modes.  Lastly,  the  pastures  he  made  resound 
with  the  poet's  reeds.  Black  Atropos,  alas,  put  an  end  to 
the  joyful  task.  For  him  ungrateful  Florence,  harsh  mother 
to  her  bard,  bore  the  sad  fruit  of  exile.  Him  kindly  Ravenna 
rejoices  to  have  held  in  the  bosom  of  herhonored  lord.  Guido 
Novello.  In  the  year  of  God  one  thousand  three  hundred 
and  thrice  seven  years,  on  the  Ides  of  September,  he  re- 
turned to  his  stars.] 


VII 
THE   FLORENTINES   REPROACHED 

'H,  ungrateful  country,  what 
madness,  what  forgetfulness 
possessed  thee,  when  with 
unaccustomed  cruelty  thou 
didst  put  to  flight  thy  dearest 
citizen,  thine  eminent  bene- 
factor, thine  only  poet?  Or  what  possessed 
thee  subsequently?  If,  perchance,  thou  excus- 
est  thyself  by  the  general  madness  of  the 
moment,  induced  by  evil  counsel,  why,  when 
anger  had  passed  away,  and  tranquillity  of  mind 
was  restored,  didst  thou  not  repent  of  the  deed 
and  recall  him?  Ah, be  not  loth  to  reason  some- 
what with  me,  thy  son,  and  take  that  which  just 


THE  FLORENTINES  REPROACHED   75 

indignation  makes  me  say  as  from  a  man  that 
desires  that  thou  amend,  and  not  that  thou  be 
punished.  Does  it  seem  to  thee  that  thou  hast 
such  titles  to  ^lory  that  thou  shouldst  have  de- 
liberately hunted  from  thee  one  the  like  of 
whom  no  neighbor  city  can  boast?  Ah,  tell 
me,  with  what  victories,  what  triumphs,  what 
excellencies,  what  valorous  citizens  thou  art 
resplendent?  Thy  riches  —  things  unstable 
and  uncertain;  thy  beauties — things  fragile  and 
failing;  thy  delicacy  —  thin^  blameworthy  and 
feminine,  have  made  thee  known  in  the  false 
judgment  of  peoples,  which  always  looks  more 
to  appearance  than  to  reality.  Wilt  thou  ^lory 
in  thy  merchants  and  in  the  artists  with  whom 
thou  dost  abound?  Thou  wilt  do  foolishly. 
The  one  by  constant  avarice  plies  a  servile 
trade.  Art,  which  was  once  ennobled  by  ge- 
niuses, in  that  they  made  it  a  second  nature,  is 
now  itself  corrupted  by  avarice,  and  is  value- 
less. Wilt  thou  ^lory  in  the  cowardice  and 
sloth  of  those  who,  because  that  they  recall 
their  many  ancestors,  would  ^ain  from  thee 
headship  of  the  nobility,  ever  by  robbery  and 
treachery  and  falsity?  Vain  ^lory  shall  be  thine 
and  thou  shalt  be   scorned   by   those  whose 


76  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

judgments  have  a  proper  basis  and  real  stabil- 
ity. Ah,  wretched  mother,  open  thy  eyes  and 
see  with  some  remorse  what  thou  didst;  and 
be  ashamed  at  least  that,  reputed  wise  as  thou 
art,  thou  hast  made  a  false  choice  in  thy  faults  ! 
If  thou  hadst  not  such  counsel  in  thyself,  why 
didst  thou  not  imitate  the  acts  of  those  cities 
who  are  still  famous  for  their  praiseworthy 
works?  Athens,  which  was  one  of  the  eyes  of 
Greece,  while  she  was  the  monarch  of  the 
world,  alike  splendid  in  knowledge,  eloquence, 
and  warfare;  Ar^os  still  glorious  by  the  titles 
of  her  kin^s;  Smyrna,  ever  revered  by  us  for 
Nicholas  her  bishop;  Pylos,  renowned  for  the 
a^ed  Nestor;  Chyme,  Chios,  and  Colophon, 
splendid  cities  of  the  past,  were  all,  while 
they  were  most  glorious,  not  ashamed  of  the 
divine  poet  Homer,  nor  hesitated  to  dispute 
sharply  over  his  origin,  each  affirming  that  he 
was  drawn  from  her;  and  each  made  her  claim 
so  strong  by  argument  that  the  dispute  still 
lasts,  nor  is  it  certain  whence  he  was,  inasmuch 
as  all  ^lory  so  equally  in  such  a  citizen.  And 
Mantua,  our  neighbor — from  what  else  has 
more  fame  come  to  her  than  from  the  fact  that 
Virgil,  whose  name  they  still  revere,  was  a 


THE  FLORENTINES  REPROACHED  11 

Mantuan;  and  be  is  so  acceptable  to  all  tbat 
his  image  is  not  only  in  public  but  also  in  many 
private  places,  sbowing  that,  notwithstanding 
that  his  father  was  a  potter,  he  has  been  the 
ennobler  of  them  all.  Sulmona  glories  in  Ovid, 
Venosa  in  Horace,  Aquino  in  Juvenal,  and 
many  others,  each  in  her  son,  and  claims  her 
right  to  him.  The  example  of  these  cities  it 
was  no  shame  for  thee  to  follow,  since  it  is  not 
probable  that  without  reason  they  would  have 
been  so  fondly  tender  of  such  citizens.  They 
knew  that  which  thou  thyself  couldst  know  and 
canst;  namely,  that  the  unceasing  influence  of 
such  sons  would,  even  after  their  ruin,  still 
keep  their  names  eternal,  even  as  at  present, 
spread  through  all  the  world,  it  makes  them 
known  to  men  who  have  never  seen  them. 
Thou  alone,  in  the  shadow  of  I  know  not  what 
blindness,  hast  willed  to  follow  another  course, 
and,  as  if  illustrious  in  thyself,  hast  not  cared 
for  this  splendor.  Thou  alone,  as  if  the  Camilli, 
the  Publicoli,  the  Torquati,  the  Fabricii,  the 
Fabii,  the  Catos,  and  the  Scipios  had  been  of 
thee  and  by  their  magnificent  deeds  had  made 
thee  famous,  not  only  hast  let  thy  ancient  citi- 
zen Claudian  fall  from  thy  hands,  hast  not 


78  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

taken  care  of  the  present  poet,  but  hast  chased 
him  from  thee,  banished  him,  and  would  have 
deprived  him,  if  thou  couldst,  of  thy  name.  I 
cannot  escape  bein^  shamed  in  thy  behalf.  But 
lo  !  not  fortune,  but  the  natural  course  of  things 
has  been  so  far  favorable  to  thy  unworthy  de- 
sire, that  what  thou  in  brutal  eagerness  wouldst 
have  of  thyself  done  if  he  bad  fallen  in  thy 
hands, —  that  is,  killed  him, —  it  has  accom- 
plished by  its  eternal  law.  Dead  is  thy  Dante 
Alighieri  in  that  exile  to  which,  envious  of  his 
worth,  thou  unjustly  condemned  him.  Oh, 
crime  unmentionable,  that  thou,  a  mother, 
bearest  ill  will  to  the  virtues  of  a  son  of  thine. 
Now,  then,  art  thou  free  from  care;  now 
through  his  death  thou  livest  secure  in  thy 
faults,  and  canst  put  an  end  to  thy  lon^  and 
unjust  persecutions.  He  cannot  do  against  thee 
dead  that  which  living  he  never  would  have 
done.  He  sleeps  under  another  sky  than  thine, 
nor  mayst  thou  think  ever  to  see  him  more,  ex- 
cept on  that  day  in  which  thou  shalt  see  all  thy 
citizens,  and  their  sins  weighed  and  punished 
by  a  just  judge. 

If,  then,  hatred,  anger,  and  ill  feeling  cease, 
as  may  well  be  thought,  at  the  death  of  every 


THE  FLORENTINES  REPROACHED   79 

one,  be^in  to  return  to  thyself  and  to  thy  ri^ht 
mind  ;  be^in  to  be  ashamed  of  having  acted  con- 
trary to  thy  ancient  humanity;  begin  to  wish  to 
appear  a  mother  and  no  longer  a  foe;  pay  thy 
son  his  debt  of  tears;  yield  him  thy  maternal 
pity;  and  desire  to  recover  him  dead  whom 
thou  didst  refuse,  nay  rather  expel  as  a  sus- 
pect, when  alive;  restore  to  his  memory  thy 
citizenship,  thy  bosom,  thy  grace.  In  truth, 
however  ungrateful  and  insolent  thou  wert 
towards  him,  ever  as  a  son  he  held  thee  in  rev- 
erence, and  never  would  deprive  thee  of  the 
honor  that  should  come  to  thee  through  his 
works,  as  thou  didst  deprive  him  of  thy  citizen- 
ship. Always  he  called  himself  a  Florentine, 
though  his  exile  was  long,  and  desired  so  to  be 
called;  always  preferred  thee  to  every  other; 
always  loved  thee.  What,  then,  wilt  thou  do? 
Wilt  thou  ever  persist  in  thy  iniquity?  Shall 
there  be  less  humanity  in  thee  than  in  the  bar- 
barians, whom  we  find  not  only  demanding 
back  the  bodies  of  their  dead,  but  ready  to  die 
like  men  for  the  sake  of  possessing  them.  Thou 
wishest  that  the  world  believe  thee  the  grand- 
daughter of  Troy  the  famous,  and  daughter  of 
Rome:  surely  children  should  resemble  their 


80  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

fathers  and  grandfathers.  Priam,  in  his  ^rief, 
not  only  demanded  back  the  body  of  the  dead 
Hector,  but  bought  it  back  with  much  ^old. 
The  Romans,  as  some  believe,  brought  from 
Miturnum  the  bones  of  the  first  Scipio,  which 
he  had  at  his  death  with  good  reason  forbid- 
den them.  And,  although  Hector  was  by  his 
prowess  long  the  defence  of  the  Trojans,  and 
Scipio  the  liberator  not  only  of  Rome  but  of 
all  Italy, —  of  which  services  neither  could 
properly  be  credited  to  Dante,  —  Dante  is 
not  therefore  to  be  neglected;  never  yet  have 
not  arms  given  place  to  learning.  If  thou  didst 
not  at  first,  and  when  it  would  have  been  most 
fitting,  imitate  the  example  and  the  deeds  of 
the  wise  cities,  now  amend  and  follow  them. 
There  was  none  of  the  seven  aforesaid  who  did 
not  erect  for  Homer  a  real  or  a  feigned  tomb. 
And  who  doubts  that  the  Mantuans,  who  still 
honor  the  fields  and  poor  cottage  in  Piettola 
that  were  Virgil's,  would  not  have  erected  him 
an  honorable  tomb  if  Octavian  Augustus,  who 
had  transported  his  bones  from  Brindisi  to 
Naples,  had  not  ordered  that  they  should  for- 
ever remain  where  he  had  placed  them?  Sul- 
mona long  grieved  for  nothing  else  than  that 


THE  FLORENTINES  REPROACHED   81 

the  island  of  Pontus  held  in  a  certain  spot  her 
Ovid;  and  Parnna  likewise  rejoices  in  her  pos- 
session of  Cassius.  Seek  thou  also  to  be  the 
guardian  of  thy  Dante.  Beg  him  back.  Show 
thy  humanity,  even  if  thou  hast  not  the  desire 
to  regain  him.  By  this  fiction  rid  thyself  of  the 
blame  that  thou  didst  long  ago  acquire.  Beg 
him  back.  I  am  sure  that  he  will  not  be  re- 
stored to  thee,  and  thou  canst  show  thyself  kind 
and  at  the  same  time  delight,  not  recovering 
him,  in  thy  innate  cruelty.  But  to  what  do  I 
encourage  thee!  I  scarcely  believe,  if  dead 
bodies  had  feeling,  that  of  Dante  could  depart 
from  where  it  is,  to  return  to  thee.  He  lies  with 
company  far  more  honorable  than  that  which 
thou  couldst  give  him.  He  lies  in  Ravenna,  in 
age  far  more  venerable  than  thou  ;  and  although 
her  antiquity  renders  her  somewhat  ugly,  she 
was  in  her  youth  far  more  flourishing  than 
thou.  She  is  almost  one  general  tomb  of  holy 
bodies,  nor  can  one  step  without  treading  on 
venerable  ashes.  Who,  then,  would  desire  to 
return  to  thee,  to  lie  among  thy  ashes,  which 
may  be  thought  still  to  preserve  the  rage  and 
iniquity  that  were  theirs  in  life,  and,  at  ill 
accord,  to  flee  one  from  another,  as  did  the 
6 


82  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

flames  of  the  two  Thebans?  And,  although  Ra- 
venna once  was  almost  bathed  in  the  precious 
blood  of  many  martyrs,  and  to-day  with  rever- 
ence preserves  their  relics,  and  likewise  the 
bodies  of  many  magnificent  emperors  and 
others  illustrious  by  their  ancient  race  and  their 
virtuous  deeds,  she  rejoices  not  a  little  in  hav- 
ing been  granted  by  God,  besides  her  other 
^ifts,  the  privilege  of  bein^  the  perpetual  guar- 
dian of  such  a  treasure  as  is  the  body  of  him 
whose  works  hold  the  whole  world  in  admira- 
tion, and  of  whom  thou  hast  not  been  worthy. 
But  surely  the  joy  of  having  him  is  not  so  ^reat 
as  the  envy  that  she  bears  thee  because  thou 
hast  the  ri^ht  to  his  birth,  almost  disdaining  the 
fact  that  she  will  be  remembered  for  his  last 
days,  while  beside  her  thou  wilt  be  named  for 
bis  first.  Wherefore  remainest  thou  in  thy  in- 
gratitude, and  allowest  ^lad  Ravenna  to  ^lory 
forever  in  thy  honors? 


vili 


DANTE'S  APPEARANCE,  USAGES,  AND  HABITS 


UCH  as  I  have  described 
above  was  the  end  of  Dante's 
life,  worn  by  various  studies; 
and  since  I  appear  to  have 
described  sufficiently  his 
love,  his  domestic  and  pub- 
lic cares,  his  miserable  exile,  and  his  end,  in 
accordance  with  my  promise,  I  deem  it  now 
proper  to  ^o  on  to  speak  of  his  bodily  stature, 
of  his  habits,  and  in  general  of  the  more  note- 
worthy customs  which  he  observed  in  his  life, 
passing  immediately  from  these  to  his  works 
which  are  worthy  of  note,  composed  by  him  in 


84  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

bis  day — a  day  troubled  by  sucb  a  wbirlwind 
as  has  briefly  been  shown  above. 

Our  poet,  then,  was  of  moderate  stature, 
and  after  he  came  to  a  mature  age  walked 
somewhat  bent,  and  his  gait  was  grave  and 
gentle;  he  was  always  dressed  in  good  clothes 
of  a  fashion  appropriate  to  his  years.  His  face 
was  long,  his  nose  aquiline,  his  eyes  rather 
large  than  small,  his  jaws  large,  and  his  lower 
lip  protruded  over  the  upper.  His  complexion 
was  dark,  his  hair  and  beard  thick,  black  and 
curling,  and  his  expression  was  melancholy  and 
thoughtful.  It  happened,  therefore,  one  day 
at  Verona, —  when  the  fame  of  his  works  was 
already  widely  spread,  and  especially  that  part 
of  his  Comedy  which  he  entitles  Hell,  and 
when  he  was  known  by  many,  both  men  and 
women, —  that,  passing  before  a  door  where 
many  women  were  sitting,  one  of  them  said 
softly  to  the  others, —  but  not,  however,  so 
softly  that  she  was  not  clearly  heard  by  him 
and  those  who  were  with  him, —  "  See  the  man 
who  goes  to  hell,  and  returns  when  he  pleases, 
and  brings  back  news  of  those  that  are  below." 
To  which  one  of  the  others  responded  naively, 
"  Indeed,  thou  must  speak  the  truth.     Dost 


APPEARANCE  AND  HABITS  85 

thou  not  see  bow  his  beard  is  crisped  and  bis 
complexion  browned  by  the  heat  and  smoke 
that  is  below  ?"  Hearing  these  words  said  be- 
hind him,  and  knowing  that  they  came  from 
the  simple  belief  of  the  women,  he  was  pleased, 
and  passed  on,  smiling  a  little,  as  if  content  that 
they  thought  so.  In  his  domestic  and  public 
habits  he  was  admirably  orderly  and  self-con- 
tained, and  in  all  he  was  more  courteous  and 
civil  than  others.  In  food  and  drink  he  was 
abstemious,  both  in  taking  them  at  regular 
hours,  and  in  not  ^oin^  beyond  need  in  taking 
them  ;  nor  did  he  have  any  special  taste  for  one 
thing  more  than  for  another.  He  praised  deli- 
cate viands,  but  for  the  most  part  ate  of  plain 
food,  condemning  strongly  those  who  made 
great  efforts  to  get  choice  things  and  have  them 
prepared  with  great  care,  declaring  that  such 
eat  not  to  live,  but  rather  live  to  eat.  No  one 
kept  more  vigils  than  he,  whether  wrestling 
with  his  studies  or  anxiety,  so  that  many  times 
his  family  and  his  wife  were  disturbed  at  it, 
until  they  grew  used  to  his  ways  and  paid  no 
attention  to  it.  He  rarely  spoke  when  not 
questioned,  and  then  thoughtfully  and  in  a  tone 
appropriate  to  the  matter  of  which  he  spoke. 


86  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

When  it  was  necessary,  however,  he  was  elo- 
quent and  fluent,  and  with  excellent  and  ready 
delivery. 

In  his  youth  he  was  exceedingly  fond  of 
music  and  singing,  and  he  was  friend  and  com- 
panion of  every  one  of  the  best  singers  and  play- 
ers of  those  times.  Often  he  was  incited  by 
his  love  for  music  to  compose  poems,  which  he 
had  them  clothe  in  pleasing  and  masterly  mel- 
ody. How  fervently  he  was  subject  to  love 
has  already  been  clearly  shown,  and  it  is  the 
firm  belief  of  all  that  this  love  incited  his  genius 
to  become  a  poet  in  the  vulgar  tongue, — first 
through  imitation;  afterwards,  through  a  de- 
sire for  glory  and  to  set  forth  his  emotions  more 
impressively,  he  took  great  pains  in  composi- 
tion, and  not  only  surpassed  all  his  contempo- 
raries, but  so  clarified  and  beautified  the  Italian 
tongue  that  he  made  many  then  and  after  him 
(and  still  shall  make  them)  expert  in  verse  or 
desirous  of  becoming  so.  He  was  especially 
fond  of  being  alone,  and  at  a  distance  from  peo- 
ple, in  order  that  his  contemplation  might  not 
be  interrupted,  and  if  any  thought  that  greatly 
pleased  him  came  to  him  while  he  was  in  com- 
pany, no  matter  what  was  asked  him,  he  would 


APPEARANCE  AND  HABITS  87 

never  respond  to  the  questioner  until  bis  ima- 
gination had  either  accepted  or  rejected  this 
thought.  This  happened  many  times,  when  he 
was  questioned  while  at  table  or  journeying  in 
company,  or  elsewhere. 

In  bis  studies  be  was  most  assiduous,  both 
in  regard  to  the  time  which  he  ^ave  up  to  them 
and  in  the  fact  that  no  news  that  he  beard  could 
withdraw  his  attention  from  them.  It  is  cred- 
ibly reported  of  this  habit  of  his  of  ^ivin^  him- 
self up  entirely  to  whatever  pleased  him,  that 
once  upon  a  time  he  was  in  Siena,  and  hap- 
pening by  chance  to  be  in  an  apothecary's  shop, 
a  book  which  had  been  promised  him  and 
which  was  famous  amon^  experts,  but  which 
he  had  never  seen,  was  brought  him.  Not 
having  by  chance  leisure  to  take  it  elsewhere, 
he  leaned  bis  breast  against  a  bench  in  front  of 
the  apothecary's,  and  put  the  book  there,  and 
began  eagerly  to  look  at  it.  And  although  a 
little  after,  in  the  district  just  before  him,  on 
account  of  some  great  celebration  of  the  Sien- 
cse,  a  grand  tournament  of  young  gentlemen 
was  begun  and  carried  out,  and  therewith  by- 
standers made  a  great  deal  of  noise  (as  they 
are  accustomed  in  such  cases  to  do,  with  ap- 


88  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

plauditi^  cries  and  various  instruments),  and 
although  other  things  enough  happened  to 
withdraw  the  attention  of  any  one  else, —  danc- 
ing, for  instance,  by  fair  women  and  many 
sports  of  youth, —  there  was  no  one  who  saw 
him  stir  thence  or  once  lift  his  eyes  from  the 
book.  Rather,  it  was  about  the  hour  of  nones 
when  he  took  up  his  position  there,  and  it  was 
after  vespers,  and  he  bad  read  it  all  and  got  the 
gist  of  it  before  he  arose  from  it.  Afterwards, 
he  affirmed  to  some  who  asked  him  how  he 
could  keep  from  looking  at  such  a  fine  celebra- 
tion as  was  carried  on  in  front  of  him,  that  he 
had  heard  nothing  of  it,  and  thus,  to  the  ques- 
tioners, a  second  cause  for  wonder  was  not 
improperly  added  to  the  first. 

This  poet  was  also  of  marvelous  capacity, 
retentive  memory,  and  penetrating  intellect, — 
so  much  so  that,  being  in  Paris,  and  there 
maintaining,  in  a  disputation  de  quolibet  which 
was  held  in  the  schools  of  theology,  fourteen 
theses  of  various  kinds,  brought  forward  by 
various  worthy  men,  he  without  a  break  col- 
lected the  arguments  pro  and  con,  and  recited 
them  in  the  same  order  in  which  they  were 
given,  acutely  analyzing  and  replying  to  the 


APPEARANCE  AND  HABITS  89 

contrary  arguments, —  a  feat  which  was  reputed 
almost  a  miracle  by  all  the  bystanders.  He 
had  also  a  lofty  genius  and  likewise  acute 
powers  of  invention,  as  his  works  make  more 
manifest  than  my  description  can  to  those  who 
understand  them.  He  was  eager  for  honor  and 
glory, — perchance  more  eager  than  was  befit- 
ting his  exalted  virtue.  But  what  then?  What 
life  is  so  humble  that  it  is  not  touched  by  the 
sweetness  of  glory?  It  was  on  account  of  this 
desire,  I  believe,  that  he  loved  poetry  more 
than  any  other  study,  seeing  that,  although 
philosophy  surpasses  all  the  others  in  nobility, 
its  excellence  can  be  communicated  only  to  a 
few,  and  many  are  famous  throughout  the  world 
for  distinction  in  it;  whereas  poetry  is  more 
apparent  and  delightful  to  every  one,  but  poets 
are  rare.  He  hoped,  moreover,  through  poetry 
to  attain  to  the  rare  and  distinguished  honor  of 
being  crowned  with  the  laurel,  and  thus  gave 
himself  up  to  study  and  composition.  His  de- 
sire would  certainly  have  been  fulfilled  if  for- 
tune had  been  so  gracious  to  him  as  to  allow 
him  ever  to  return  to  Florence,  where  he  was 
minded  to  be  crowned  at  the  font  of  S.  John, 
in  order  that  here,  where  he  had  received  his 


90 


LIFE  OF  DANTE 


first  name  in  baptism,  be  sbould  receive  bis 
second  in  coronation.  But  tbin^s  turned  out  so 
tbat,  altbougb  bis  title  was  clear,  and  be  could 
bave  bad  anywbere  else  tbat  it  pleased  him 
tbe  bonor  of  taking  tbe  laurel  (which,  though 
it  does  not  increase  knowledge,  is  its  ornament 
and  a  sure  token  of  its  acquisition),  in  bis  de- 
sire to  return  where  he  could  never  be,  be  was 
unwilling  to  take  it  elsewhere,  and  so  died  with- 
out the  much  desired  honor.  But  inasmuch  as 
frequent  question  is  made  by  readers,  what  is 
poetry  and  what  are  poets,  and  whence  the  word 
comes,  and  why  poets  are  crowned  with  the 
laurel,  and  these  matters  seem  to  have  been 
explained  by  few,  it  seems  to  me  right  to  make 
a  digression  here,  in  which  I  shall  to  some  ex- 
tent make  this  clear,  returning  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible to  my  theme. 


IX 


DIGRESSION  WITH   REGARD  TO  POETRY 


HE  early  races  in  the  early 
centuries,  although  they  were 
very  crude  and  uncultivated, 
were  exceedingly  ardent  to 
find  out  the  truth  by  study, 
even  as  we  see  now  each  one 
naturally  desiring  this.  Seeing  the  heaven 
moved  continually  in  accordance  with  fixed 
laws,  and  earthly  things  with  their  fixed  order 
and  various  functions  at  various  times,  they 
thought  that  there  must  necessarily  be  some- 
thing from  which  these  things  proceeded,  and 
which,  as  a  superior  power,  governed  all  the 
other  things  and  was  not  governed  itself.    And 


92  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

after  diligent  thought  they  imagined  that  this 
thin^,  which  they  called  divinity  or  deity,  was 
to  be  venerated  and  honored  with  more  than 
human  service.  Therefore  they  built,  in  rever- 
ence of  the  name  of  this  ^reat  power,  lar^e  and 
distinguished  edifices.  They  thought  that  these 
should  be  separated  by  name  as  they  were  in 
form  from  those  in  which  men  generally  lived, 
and  they  called  them  temples.  Similarly  they 
appointed  various  ministers,  who  were  sacred 
and  relieved  from  all  worldly  care,  and  could 
devote  themselves  entirely  to  the  service  of  the 
gods,  and  were  in  maturity  and  age  and  habits 
more  respected  than  other  men;  these  they 
called  priests.  Furthermore,  they  made,  in 
representation  of  the  imagined  divine  essence, 
magnificent  statues  of  various  forms,  and  for 
its  service  vessels  of  gold  and  marble  tables 
and  purple  vestments  and  all  other  appliances 
pertaining  to  sacrifices  established  for  them. 
And  in  order  that  to  so  great  a  power  a  silent 
and,  as  it  were,  a  mute  honor  might  not  be  paid, 
it  appeared  to  them  that  they  should  humble 
themselves  before  it  with  words  of  lofty  sound, 
and  render  it  propitious  to  their  necessities. 
And  as  they  thought  that  this  power  exceeded 


WITH  REGARD  TO  POETRY      93 

everything  else  in  nobility,  they  were  desirous 
that  they  should  find  words  of  speech  far  from 
the  ordinary  plebeian  or  public  style,  and  wor- 
thy of  the  divinity,  in  which  they  could  express 
their  sacred  laudations.  Furthermore,  in  order 
that  these  words  mi^ht  appear  to  have  more 
efficacy,  they  desired  that  they  should  be  com- 
posed according  to  laws  of  rhythm,  by  which 
pleasure  mi^ht  be  felt  and  resentment  and  an- 
noyance removed.  And  it  was  clearly  appropri- 
ate that  this  should  be  done,  not  in  a  vulvar  or 
accustomed  form  of  speech,  but  in  a  form 
artificial,  exquisite,  and  new.  This  form  the 
Greeks  called  poetes;  hence  it  arose  that  that 
which  was  made  in  this  form  was  called  po- 
esisf  and  they  who  made  or  used  such  a  form 
of  speaking  were  called  poets.  This,  then, 
was  the  first  origin  of  the  name  of  poetry,  and 
consequently  of  poets,  and  although  others 
have  other  reasons  for  it,  and  perhaps  good 
ones,  this  pleases  me  most. 

This  good  and  praiseworthy  idea  of  that 
crude  age  moved  many  to  various  devices,  as 
the  world  grew  through  knowledge,  and  while 
the  early  people  honored  one  deity  alone,  their 
successors  believed  there  were  many,  although 


94  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

they  said  that  one  held  the  primacy  over  the 
others.  These  many  deities  they  thought  were 
the  sun,  the  moon,  Saturn,  Jove,  and  each  of 
the  other  seven  planets,  and  they  proved  the 
deity  of  these  by  their  influence.  And  hence 
they  came  to  show  that  everything  was  a  deity 
that  was  useful  to  men,  even  if  it  were  an 
earthly  thin^,  like  fire  and  water  and  earth  and 
the  like,  and  to  all  these  they  paid  honor  and 
made  verses  and  established  sacrifices.  Then 
various  men  in  various  places,  one  by  one  tal- 
ent and  one  by  another,  be^an  successively  to 
gain  power  over  the  unlearned  multitude  of 
their  districts,  deciding  rude  disputes  not  ac- 
cording to  written  law,  for  they  had  none  yet, 
but  according  to  a  natural  sense  of  justice,  with 
which  one  was  more  endowed  than  another, 
and,  being  more  enlightened  by  nature  itself, 
giving  order  to  their  lives  and  customs,  and 
resisting  by  bodily  force  any  opposition  that 
might  arise.  They  began  also  to  call  them- 
selves kings,  and  to  show  themselves  to  the 
people  with  slaves  and  ornaments  not  hitherto 
used  by  men,  and  to  make  themselves  obeyed, 
and  lastly  to  make  themselves  worshiped. 
This,  provided  there  was  one  who  had  con- 


WITH  REGARD  TO  POETRY  95 

ceived  the  idea,  came  about  without  much  dif- 
ficulty, because  to  such  crude  peoples  seeing 
them  thus,  they  seemed  not  men  but  ^ods. 
These  men,  not  trusting  too  much  to  their 
strength,  be^an  to  augment  religion,  and  by 
faith  in  it  to  frighten  their  subjects  and  to  bind 
with  sacraments  to  obedience  those  whom  they 
could  not  have  bound  by  force.  And  further- 
more they  took  care  to  deify  their  fathers,  their 
grandfathers,  and  their  ancestors,  in  order  that 
they  should  be  more  feared  and  held  in  rev- 
erence by  the  people.  These  things  could  not 
easily  be  done  without  the  office  of  poets, 
who  helped  them  by  spreading  their  fame,  by 
pleasing  the  princes,  by  delighting  their  sub- 
jects, and  by  persuading  all  to  act  virtuously. 
That  which  if  spoken  openly  would  have  de- 
feated their  ends,  but  which  the  princes  wished 
to  have  believed,  they  made  the  people  believe 
by  various  masterly  fictions, — hardly  under- 
stood by  the  vulgar  now,  not  to  say  then.  Both 
for  the  new  gods  and  the  men  who  pretended  to 
be  the  descendants  of  gods,  they  used  the  same 
style  that  early  peoples  had  used  only  for  the 
worship  of  the  true  God  and  for  lauding  Him. 
Then  they  came  to  make  the  deeds  of  strong 


96  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

men  equal  to  those  of  the  ^ods,  and  thence 
arose  the  practice  of  celebrating  in  exalted 
verse  battles  and  other  notable  deeds  of  men 
mingled  with  those  of  the  gods,  which  both  was 
and  is  to-day,  together  with  the  other  things 
mentioned  before,  the  office  and  practice  of  all 
poets.  And  since  many  do  not  believe  that 
poetry  is  anything  else  but  the  telling  of  fables, 
it  pleases  me  —  going  beyond  my  plan  —  to 
show  here  briefly  that  it  is  theology,  before 
that  I  come  to  tell  why  poets  are  crowned  with 
laurel. 

If  we  would  put  our  minds  to  it,  and  look  at 
it  rationally,  I  believe  that  we  could  easily  see 
that  the  ancient  poets  followed,  so  far  as  it  is 
possible  to  human  genius,  the  steps  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  which,  as  we  see  in  the  divine  Scripture, 
by  the  mouths  of  many  revealed  to  times  to 
come  its  highest  secrets,  making  them  utter 
under  a  veil  that  which  at  the  proper  time  it  in- 
tended to  show,  by  works,  without  a  veil.  Inas- 
much as  the  poets,  if  we  regard  well  theirworks, 
in  order  that  the  imitator  might  not  seem  dif- 
ferent from  the  model  imitated,  under  cover  of 
some  fiction  describe  that  which  had  been,  or 
was  at  that  time,  or  which  they  desired  or  which 


WITH  REGARD  TO  POETRY  97 

they  supposed  should  happen  in  the  future, — 
therefore,  although  the  two  forms  of  writing  do 
not  look  to  the  same  end,  but  only  to  a  single 
method  of  treatment  (which  most  occupies  my 
mind  at  present),  to  both  may  be  given  the  same 
praise,  using  the  words  of  Gregory,  who  said  of 
the  Holy  Scripture  that  which  may  still  be  said 
of  poetry;  namely,  that  it  in  the  same  narrative 
passage  reveals  the  text  and  a  mystery  under- 
neath it.  It  then  at  once  with  one  exercises  the 
wise  and  with  the  other  comforts  the  simple  ;  it 
has  in  public  whence  to  nourish  children,  and  in 
secret  serves  this  end,  that  it  holds  the  minds 
of  lofty  thinkers  rapt  in  admiration.  It  there- 
fore appears  to  be  a  river,  if  I  may  so  say,  gentle 
and  deep,  in  which  the  little  lamb  may  wade 
and  the  great  elephant  may  easily  swim.  But 
it  is  proper  to  proceed  to  the  verification  of  the 
statement  laid  down. 


THE    DIFFERENCE  THAT   EXISTS    BETWEEN 
POETRY   AND   THEOLOGY 


HE  divine  Scripture,  which 
we  call  theology,  sometimes 
under  ^uise  of  history,  some- 
times as  if  by  a  vision,  some- 
times in  the  form  of  a  lament, 
or  in  other  manners,  endeav- 
ors to  show  us  the  hi^h  mystery  of  the  incar- 
nation of  the  Divine  Word,  His  life,  the  events 
which  led  to  His  death,  glorious  resurrection, 
and  wonderful  ascension,  and  all  His  other 
acts,  through  which  we,  taught  by  Him,  may 
attain  to  that  ^lory  which  He  by  His  death  and 
resurrection  opened  for  us,  after  it  had  been 


POETRY  AND  THEOLOGY  99 

lon^  closed  to  us  by  the  sin  of  the  first  man. 
So  poets  in  their  works,  which  we  call  poetry, 
sometimes  by  fictions  of  various  ^ods,  some- 
times by  the  transformation  of  men  into  shad- 
owy forms,  sometimes  by  gentle  persuasion, 
show  us  the  reasons  of  things,  the  results  of 
virtues  and  vices,  and  what  we  should  flee  and 
what  we  should  follow,  in  order  that  we  may 
attain  by  virtuous  action  to  that  end  which 
they,  although  they  did  not  know  properly  the 
true  God,  believed  our  highest  welfare.  The 
Holy  Spirit  wished  to  show  by  means  of  the 
green  bush,  in  which  Moses  saw  God  as  if  in 
an  ardent  flame,  the  virginity  of  her  who  was 
purer  than  all  other  creatures,  and  who  was 
destined  to  be  the  habitation  and  receptacle  of 
the  Lord  of  nature,  and  who  was  not  to  be  con- 
taminated by  her  conception,  nor  by  the  birth 
of  the  Word  of  the  Father.  It  wished  to  show, 
by  the  vision  seen  by  Nebuchadnezzar  of  the 
statue  of  many  metals,  which  was  destroyed  by 
a  stone  turned  into  a  mountain,  that  all  past 
ages  should  be  overwhelmed  by  the  teachings 
of  Christ,  who  was  and  is  the  living  rock;  and 
that  the  Christian  religion,  born  of  this  rock, 
should  become  a  thing  immovable  and  perpet- 


100  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

ual,  as  are  the  mountains  which  we  see.  It 
wished  in  the  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah  to 
foretell  the  future  destruction  of  Jerusalem. 

In  the  same  way,  our  poets,  fei^nin^  that 
Saturn  had  many  children  and  devoured  all  but 
four,  intended  by  this  fiction  to  make  us  believe 
nothing  else  than  that  Saturn  is  time,  in  which 
everything  is  produced,  and  even  as  everything 
is  produced  in  time,  so  time  is  the  destroyer  of 
all  things  and  reduces  them  to  nothing.  Of  the 
four  children  not  devoured  by  him,  one  is  Jove, 
that  is  to  say,  the  element  of  fire;  the  second  is 
Juno,  spouse  and  sister  of  Jove,  that  is,  the  air, 
by  means  of  which  fire  works  its  effects  below; 
the  third  is  Neptune,  the  god  of  the  sea,  that 
is,  the  element  of  water;  the  fourth  and  last  is 
Pluto,  the  god  of  hell,  that  is,  the  earth,  which 
is  lower  than  any  other  element.  In  the  same 
way,  our  poets  feigned  that  Hercules  was  trans- 
formed from  a  man  into  a  god,  and  Lycaon  from 
a  man  into  a  wolf,  wishing  thereby  to  teach  us 
the  moral  lesson  that  by  such  virtuous  deeds  as 
Hercules  did  man  becomes  god  and  partici- 
pates in  heaven  ;  and  by  vicious  deeds,  as  those 
which  Lycaon  did,  although  he  seems  to  be  a 
man,  in  truth  he  can  be  said  to  be  that  beast 


POETRY  AND  THEOLOGY  lOI 

which  is  known  by  all  as  having  the  effect  most 
similar  to  his  defect  ;  for  Lycaon,  by  rapacity 
and  avarice,  which  are  very  appropriate  for  a 
wolf,  is  represented  as  changed  into  a  wolf.  In 
the  same  way,  our  poets  imagined  the  beauty 
of  the  Elysian  Fields,  which  I  take  to  mean  the 
sweetness  of  paradise,  and  the  obscurity  of  Dis, 
by  which  I  understand  the  bitterness  of  hell,  in 
order  that  we,  attracted  by  the  pleasure  of  the 
one  and  terrified  by  the  suffering  of  the  other, 
may  follow  the  virtues  that  will  lead  us  to  Ely- 
sium and  flee  the  vices  which  would  cause 
us  to  be  ferried  over  to  Dis.  I  omit  pounding 
in  these  matters  by  a  more  detailed  explanation, 
for,  although  I  should  like  to  make  them  as 
clear  as  could  be  and  as  is  fitting,  and  although 
they  would  become  more  interesting  and  would 
greatly  aid  my  argument,  I  do  not  doubt  that 
they  would  lead  me  further  than  my  main  sub- 
ject requires,  and  that  I  am  unwilling  to  do. 

Surely,  if  I  should  say  no  more  than  has 
been  said,  it  could  be  easily  understood  that 
theology  and  poetry  agree  with  regard  to  the 
form  of  operation;  but  I  say  also  that  with 
regard  to  the  subject  they  are  not  only  very 
different,  but  in  certain  respects  opposite,  inas- 


102  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

much  as  the  subject  of  sacred  theology  is  divine 
truth,  while  that  of  the  ancient  poets  is  nnen 
and  the  ^ods  of  the  pagans.  They  are  oppo- 
site in  so  far  as  theology  presupposes  nothing 
that  is  not  true;  poetry  supposes  certain  things 
as  true  which  are  most  false  and  erroneous  and 
contrary  to  the  Christian  religion.  But  inas- 
much as  some  dolts  are  arisen  against  the 
poets,  saying  that  poets  have  composed  inde- 
cent and  evil  fables,  not  consonant  with  the 
truth,  and  that  in  other  ways  than  by  fables 
they  could  have  shown  their  powers  and  given 
their  teachings  to  mortals,  I  wish  to  go  still 
further  with  the  present  explanation. 

Let,  then,  such  people  look  at  the  visions  of 
Daniel,  of  Isaiah,  of  Ezekiel,  and  of  others  de- 
scribed in  the  Old  Testament  by  the  Divine 
pen,  and  explained  there  by  Him  who  has 
neither  beginning  nor  end.  Let  them  look  also 
in  the  New  Testament  at  the  visions  of  the 
Evangelist,  full  to  those  who  understand  them 
of  admirable  truth  ;  and  if  no  poetic  fable  is 
found  so  far  from  truth  and  verisimilitude  as 
these  appear  in  many  parts  outwardly,  let  it  be 
conceded  that  only  the  poets  have  told  fables 
calculated  to  give  neither  pleasure  nor  profit. 


POETRY  AND  THEOLOGY  103 

Without  saying  anything  of  the  blame  which 
they  lay  on  the  poets  because  they  have  shown 
their  teaching  in  fables  or  by  fables,  I  could 
pass  on,  knowing  that,  while  they  madly  blame 
the  poets  for  this,  they  incautiously  fall  into 
blaming  that  Spirit  which  is  nothing  else  than 
the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life.  But  I  wish  to 
satisfy  them. 

It  is  manifest  that  everything  that  is  acquired 
with  toil  has  more  sweetness  in  it  than  that 
which  comes  without  trouble.  A  bald  truth, 
because  it  is  so  soon  understood  with  little 
effort,  delights  us,  and  passes  into  the  mem- 
ory. But  in  order  that  truth  acquired  by  toil 
should  be  more  pleasing  and  that  it  should  be 
better  preserved,  the  poets  concealed  it  under 
matters  that  appear  to  be  wholly  different.  And 
therefore  they  chose  fables,  rather  than  any 
other  form  of  concealment,  because  their 
beauty  attracts  those  whom  neither  philo- 
sophic demonstrations  nor  persuasions  could 
have  touched.  What  then  shall  we  say  of 
poets?  Shall  we  suppose  that  they  are  mad- 
men, like  these  dolts,  speaking  and  not  know- 
ing what  they  say?  Certainly  not  ;  for  they  are 
of  profound  intelligence  in  their  methods,  as 


104  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

regards  the  hidden  fruit,  and  of  an  excellent 
and  beautiful  eloquence  as  regards  the  bark 
and  visible  leaves.  But  let  us  return  where  we 
left  off. 

I  say  that  theology  and  poetry  may  be  said 
to  be  almost  one  thin^  when  the  subject  is 
the  same;  and  I  say  further  that  theology  is 
nothing  else  than  the  poetry  of  God.  What 
other  thing  is  it  than  poetic  fiction  in  the  Scrip- 
ture when  Christ  says  that  he  is  now  a  lion,  and 
now  a  lamb,  and  now  a  serpent,  and  then  a 
dragon,  and  then  a  rock, — and  in  many  other 
ways,  to  recount  all  of  which  would  be  tedious  ? 
What  else  contain  the  words  of  the  Saviour  in 
the  evangel  if  not  a  meaning  different  from  the 
sense,  a  way  of  speaking  which  we  call  by  the 
common  term  allegory?  It  then  clearly  ap- 
pears not  only  that  poetry  is  theology,  but  that 
theology  is  poetry.  Even  if  my  words  merit 
little  faith  in  so  great  a  matter  I  shall  not  be 
disturbed.  Rather  believe  Aristotle,  a  most 
worthy  authority  for  matters  of  weight,  who 
affirms  that  he  had  found  that  poets  were  the 
first  theologians.  Let  this  suffice  for  this  part, 
and  let  us  turn  to  showing  why  to  poets  alone, 
among  all  men  of  knowledge,  the  honor  of  the 
laurel  crown  has  been  granted. 


XI 


THE  LAUREL  BESTOWED  ON  POETS 


MONG  the  many  nations 
which  are  on  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  it  is  believed  that 
the  Greeks  are  those  to  whom 
philosophy  first  revealed  it- 
self and  its  secrets;  from  the 
treasures  of  which  they  drew  military  know- 
ledge, political  life,  and  many  other  important 
matters,  through  which  they  became  more  fa- 
mous and  celebrated  than  any  other  nation. 
And  amon^  other  things  drawn  by  them  from 
that  treasure  was  the  sacred  opinion  of  Solon 
stated  at  the  be^innin^  of  this  little  work;  and 
in  order  that  their  republic,  which  was  then 
more   flourishing  than   any  other,  should  ^o 


106  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

straight  and  stand  on  its  two  feet,  they  arranged 
and  observed  a  nmagnificent  system  of  punish- 
ments for  the  wicked  and  of  rewards  for  the 
^ood.  Amon^  the  rewards  established  by  them 
for  well-doin^  this  was  the  chief — to  crown 
with  laurel  leaves,  in  public,  and  with  the  pub- 
lic consent,  poets  after  victory  over  their  toil, 
and  emperors  who  had  victoriously  enlarged 
the  boundaries  of  the  state,  jud^in^  that 
equal  ^lory  belonged  to  him  by  whose  virtue 
human  things  were  preserved  and  increased, 
and  to  him  by  whom  divine  matters  were 
treated.  Although  the  Greeks  were  the  in- 
ventors of  this  honor,  it  passed  over  to  the 
Latins,  when  ^lory  and  arms  ^ave  place  through- 
out the  world  to  the  Roman  name,  and  it  still 
endures  in  the  coronation  of  poets,  although 
that  rarely  happens.  But  why,  for  such  a  coro- 
nation the  laurel  rather  than  another  leaf  should 
be  chosen,  it  should  not  be  tedious  to  see. 

There  are  some  who  believe,  because  they 
know  that  Daphne  was  loved  by  Phoebus  and 
turned  into  a  laurel,  and  that  Phosbus  was  the 
first  author  and  patron  of  poets,  and  likewise 
one  who  triumphed,  that  for  love  of  these  leaves 
he  crowned  with  them  his  lyres  and  the  tri- 


THE  LAUREL  107 

umphs;  and  that  hence  men  followed  his  ex- 
ample, and  consequently  that  which  was  first 
done  by  Phoebus  was  the  cause  of  such  coro- 
nations and  the  use  of  such  leaves  up  to  these 
days  for  poets  and  emperors.  Surely,  this  opin- 
ion does  not  displease  me,  nor  do  I  deny  that 
it  may  have  been  so,  but  another  reason  es- 
pecially moves  me,  which  is  this.  Those  who 
investigate  the  virtues  of  plants  and  their  na- 
ture, hold  that  the  laurel,  amon^  its  other 
properties,  has  three  especially  notable  and 
praiseworthy.  The  first  is,  as  we  know,  that 
it  never  loses  its  greenness  nor  its  leaves;  the 
second  is,  that  this  tree  has  never  been  found 
struck  by  lightning,  the  which  we  do  not  read 
of  as  happening  in  the  case  of  any  other  tree; 
the  third,  that  it  is  very  fragrant,  as  we  are 
aware.  The  ancients,  who  were  the  inventors 
of  this  honor,  thought  these  three  properties 
were  suitable  to  the  virtuous  deeds  of  poets  and 
of  victorious  emperors.  In  the  first  place,  the 
perpetual  greenness  of  these  leaves  shows,  they 
say,  the  fame  of  their  work;  that  is,  that  the 
works  of  those  who  are  crowned  with  laurel, 
or  shall  be  crowned  in  the  future,  shall  exist 
forever.    Then,  they  think  that  their  works  are 


108  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

of  such  power  that  neither  the  fire  of  envy,  nor 
the  lightning  of  time,  which  consumes  every- 
thing else,  shall  ever  be  able  to  strike  them, 
any  more  than  the  heavenly  fire  strikes  that 
tree.  Further,  they  say  that  the  works  of  those 
already  mentioned  will  never  by  length  of  time 
become  less  pleasing  and  grateful  to  whoever 
hears  them  and  reads  them,  but  be  always 
acceptable  and  fragrant.  Hence  properly  a 
crown  of  such  leaves  rather  than  of  others  is 
appropriately  made  for  such  men,  the  effects 
of  whose  works,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  are  con- 
formable to  it.  Wherefore,  not  without  reason 
our  Dante  was  most  ardently  desirous  of  such 
an  honor,  and  of  such  a  testimony  of  power  as 
this  is  to  those  who  become  worthy  of  having 
their  brows  thus  adorned.  But  it  is  now  time 
to  return  to  the  point  from  which  we  departed 
in  this  digression. 


XII 
QUALITIES  AND  DEFECTS  OF  DANTE 

UR  poet,  in  addition  to  what 
has  been  said  before,  was  a 
man  of  lofty  and  very  disdain- 
ful spirit, —  to  such  a  degree 
that,  when  one  of  his  friends 
was  trying  to  bring  it  about  at 
the  instance  of  his  prayers  that  he  could  re- 
turn to  Florence,  a  thing  which  he  desired 
above  everything  else,  and  found  that  he  could 
not  make  any  arrangement  with  those  who  had 
the  government  of  the  republic  in  their  hands, 
except  on  the  condition  that  Dante  should  re- 
main for  a  fixed  time  in  prison,  and  after  that 
be  offered  in  our  principal  church  at  some  pub- 


I  IO  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

lie  festival  as  a  subject  for  mercy,  and  in  conse- 
quence should  become  free  and  exempt  from 
all  the  sentences  previously  passed  upon  him, 
— this  appeared  to  him  to  be  a  fitting  practice 
only  in  the  case  of  abject  though  not  infamous 
men, and  not  otherwise;  and  therefore,  in  spite 
of  his  ^reat  desire,  he  chose  to  stay  in  exile 
rather  than  return  to  his  home  by  such  means. 
Oh,  praiseworthy  scorn  of  the  magnanimous, 
how  manfully  thou  hast  operated  in  repressing 
the  ardent  desire  to  return  by  a  way  less  than 
worthy  of  a  man  nourished  in  the  bosom  of 
philosophy! 

He  likewise  set  great  store  by  himself  and 
did  not  seem  to  himself  to  be  worth  less,  as 
his  contemporaries  report,  than  he  was  really 
worth.  This  trait,  among  other  occasions,  ap- 
peared once  notably  while  he  was  with  his 
faction  at  the  head  of  the  government  of  the 
republic.  The  party  that  was  out  of  power  had 
through  Pope  Boniface  VIII  called  to  direct 
the  affairs  of  our  city  a  brother  or  relative  of 
Philip,  then  king  of  France,  whose  name  was 
Charles.  All  the  chiefs  of  the  party  with  which 
he  held  came  together  in  counsel  to  provide  for 
this  matter,  and  here,  among  other  things,  they 


QUALITIES  AND  DEFECTS  I  1  1 

decided  that  an  embassy  should  be  sent  to  the 
Pope,  who  was  then  in  Rome,  to  induce  the  said 
Pope  to  oppose  the  coming  of  the  said  Charles, 
or  to  make  him  come  in  agreement  with  the 
party  which  was  then  ruling.  When  they  came 
to  decide  who  should  be  the  chairman  of  this 
embassy,  it  was  agreed  by  all  that  it  should  be 
Dante  himself.  To  this  appointment  Dante, 
after  communing  with  himself  awhile,  said: 
"If  I  go,  who  stays?  If  I  stay,  who  goes?"  as 
if  he  were  the  only  one  of  them  all  of  any 
worth,  and  as  if  through  him  alone  the  others 
were  of  account.  These  words  were  heard  and 
remembered,  but  that  which  followed  from 
them  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  present  sub- 
ject, and  therefore  I  will  leave  it  and  pass  on. 
Besides  these  things,  this  able  man  was 
strong  in  all  his  adversities.  In  one  matter 
alone  I  am  afraid  I  should  say  that  he  was  im- 
patient or  passionate;  that  is  to  say,  with  mat- 
ters pertaining  to  political  parties,  after  he 
went  into  exile,  he  had  more  to  do  than  was 
befitting  his  quality,  and  more  than  he  was  will- 
ing to  have  others  know.  In  order  that  it  may 
appear  to  what  party  it  was  that  he  was  so  pas- 
sionately and  pertinaciously  attached,  it  seems 


112  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

to  me  that  I  should  go  on  and  write  somewhat 
further.  I  believe  that  the  just  anger  of  God 
permitted,  a  long  time  ago,  that  almost  all  Tus- 
cany and  Lombardy  was  divided  between  two 
parties.  Whence  they  got  such  names,  I  do  not 
know;  but  one  was  called  the  Guelph  party, 
and  the  other  the  Ghibelline.  And  these  two 
names  were  of  such  power  and  reverence  in  the 
foolish  hearts  of  many,  that,  to  defend  the  one 
which  he  had  chosen  against  the  other,  it  was 
not  thought  a  hardship  to  lose  one's  goods  and 
ultimately  one's  life,  if  that  was  necessary.  And 
under  these  names  many  times  Italian  cities 
sustained  grievous  oppression  and  vicissitudes, 
and,  among  others,  our  city,  —  the  head,  as  it 
were,  now  of  one,  now  of  the  other  party,  ac- 
cording to  the  changes  of  the  citizens.  So  that 
the  ancestors  of  Dante  as  Guelphs  were  twice 
exiled  by  the  Ghibellines,  and  he  likewise  as  a 
Guelph  held  the  reins  of  the  republic  of  Flor- 
ence. From  this  he  was  exiled,  as  I  have 
shown,  not  by  Ghibellines  but  by  Guelphs,  and 
seeing  that  he  could  not  return,  he  so  changed 
his  sentiments  that  no  one  was  a  fiercer  Ghi- 
belline and  opponent  of  the  Guelphs  than  he. 
And  that  which  I  most  blush  about  on  behalf 


QUALITIES  AND  DEFECTS  113 

of  his  memory  is  that  it  is  a  matter  of  public 
repute  in  Bologna,  that  any  woman  or  child 
speaking  of  politics  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
Ghibelline  party  could  move  him  to  such  a 
pitch  of  madness  that  he  would  have  been 
brought  to  throwing  stones  if  the  speaker  had 
not  kept  silence;  and  this  animosity  continued 
until  his  death.  Of  course  I  am  ashamed  to 
be  obliged  to  blot  the  fame  of  such  a  man  by 
any  defect,  but  the  plan  on  which  I  am  work- 
ing requires  it  to  some  degree,  because  if  I  am 
silent  about  anything  that  was  not  praiseworthy 
in  him,  I  shall  destroy  the  faith  of  the  reader  in 
the  praiseworthy  virtues  which  I  have  already 
pointed  out.  I  excuse  myself,  therefore,  to  him 
who  by  chance  looks  down  on  me  with  a  dis- 
dainful eye  from  high  heaven  as  I  write  this. 

In  the  midst  of  such  virtue  and  learning  as 
has  been  shown  above  to  have  been  in  this  mar- 
velous poet,  licentiousness  found  a  most  ample 
place,  and  not  only  in  his  youthful  but  also  in 
his  mature  years,  which  vice,  although  it  be 
natural  and  common  and,  as  it  were,  necessary, 
can  in  truth  not  be  commended  or  even  ex- 
cused. But  who  among  mortal  men  shall  be  a 
judge  so  just  as  to  condemn  it?    Not  I.    Oh, 

8 


114  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

the  lack  of  firmness  in  men,  their  bestial  appe- 
tite! What  influence  over  us  could  not  women 
have,  if  they  chose,  seeing  that,  without  their 
choice,  they  have  so  much  ?  They  have  charm, 
beauty,  natural  appetite,  and  many  other  things 
continually  working  for  them  in  the  hearts  of 
men.  That  this  is  true,  let  us  omit  that  which 
Jove  did  for  sake  of  Europa,  Hercules  for  Iole, 
and  Paris  for  Helen,  for,  inasmuch  as  these 
are  matters  of  poetry,  many  of  little  judgment 
would  call  them  fables;  but  let  us  take  in- 
stances not  fitting  for  any  to  deny.  Was  there 
yet  in  the  world  more  than  one  woman,  when 
our  first  father  (breaking  the  commandment 
given  him  from  the  very  mouth  of  God)  yielded 
to  her  persuasions?  Surely,  no.  And  David, 
notwithstanding  that  he  had  many,  having  only 
seen  Bathsheba,  through  her  forgot  God,  his 
kingdom,  himself,  and  bis  honor,  and  became 
first  an  adulterer  and  then  a  murderer.  What 
can  we  think  that  he  would  have  done  if  she 
had  given  him  any  command?  And  did  not 
Solomon,  to  whose  wisdom  none  save  the  Son 
of  God  ever  attained,  forsake  Him  who  had 
made  him  wise,  and  to  please  a  woman  kneel 
and  worship  Balaam?  What  did  Herod?  What 


QUALITIES  AND  DEFECTS 


115 


many  others,  led  by  nothing  else  than  their 
pleasure?  Amon^,  then,  so  many  and  so  ^reat 
instances  our  poet  can  pass  by,  not  excused, 
but  accused  with  a  brow  much  less  severe  than 
had  he  been  alone.  And  let  this  account  of  his 
more  noteworthy  habits  suffice  for  the  present. 


XIII 

THE   DIFFERENT  WORKS   WRITTEN    BY 
DANTE 


HIS  glorious  poet  composed 
many  works  in  his  days,  of 
which  I  believe  it  is  fitting 
that  there  should  be  an  or- 


derly 


memorandum,  m 


ord 


er 


that  neither  one  of  his  may 
be  attributed  to  some  one  else,  nor  another's 
be  to  him  by  chance  attributed.  He  first,  while 
still  the  tears  for  the  death  of  his  Beatrice 
lasted,  about  in  his  twenty-sixth  year,  brought 
together  in  a  little  volume,  which  he  called  The 
New  Life,  certain  pieces,  as  sonnets  and  odes, 
marvelously  beautiful,  which  he  had  written  in 
rhyme  at  various  previous  times.    Before  each 


DANTE'S  WORKS  I  17 

he  wrote  in  detail  and  order  the  reasons  that 
had  induced  him  to  make  it,  and  after  each  he 
placed  the  divisions  of  the  work  that  preceded. 
And  although  in  his  more  mature  years  he 
was  much  ashamed  of  having  written  this  little 
book,  nevertheless,  considering  his  a^e,  it  is 
very  pleasing  and  beautiful,  and  especially  in 
the  eyes  of  the  common  people. 

Some  years  after  this  compilation,  looking 
down  from  the  summit  of  the  government  of 
the  republic  over  which  he  stood,  and  seeing, 
on  a  great  scale,  as  can  be  seen  from  such 
places,  what  was  the  life  of  men,  what  were 
the  faults  of  the  vulgar,  how  few  men  there 
were  who  held  themselves  apart  from  the  vul- 
gar, and  of  what  honor  they  were  worthy,  and 
those  that  joined  themselves  to  the  vulgar,  and 
what  confusion  they  deserved  ;  condemning  the 
pursuits  of  the  latter,  and  commending  much 
more  his  own; — there  came  into  his  mind  a 
high  thought,  by  which  he  proposed  at  one 
time,  namely,  in  the  same  work,  to  show  his 
own  ability,  to  punish  the  vicious  with  grievous 
pains,  to  honor  the  worthy  with  great  rewards, 
and  to  prepare  for  himself  eternal  glory.  And 
as  I  have  already  shown  that  he  put  poetry 


I  18  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

before  all  other  studies,  he  thought  to  compose 
a  poetic  work;  and  having  lon^  before  pre- 
meditated what  he  should  do,  in  his  thirty-fifth 
year  he  be^an  to  accomplish  that  which  he  had 
before  premeditated,  namely,  his  desire  to  pun- 
ish and  reward  the  lives  of  men  according  to 
their  merits  and  diversity.  And  since  he  recog- 
nized that  life  was  of  three  sorts, — that  is  to 
say,  vicious,  and  departing  from  vices  and  mov- 
ing towards  virtue,  and  virtuous,  —  so  he  di- 
vided his  work  admirably  into  three  books,  be- 
^innin^  with  punishing  the  vicious,  and  ending 
with  rewarding  the  virtuous,  in  a  volume  which 
he  entitled  Comedy.  These  three  books  he 
divided  each  into  cantos,  and  the  cantos  into 
stanzas,  as  can  be  plainly  seen  ;  and  he  com- 
posed it  all  in  verse,  in  the  vulvar  tongue, 
with  so  ^reat  art  and  order  and  beauty  that 
there  has  been  no  one  yet  who  could  justly  lay 
any  fault  against  him.  How  subtly  he  wrote  in 
it  throughout  can  be  seen  by  those  to  whom  is 
^iven  talent  to  understand.  But  even  as  we  see 
that  ^reat  things  cannot  be  comprehended  in  a 
short  time,  —  and  on  this  account  we  must 
know  that  an  undertaking  so  hi^h,  so  ^reat, 
and  so  elaborate  (for   it   was   to   include,   in 


DANTE'S  WORKS  I  19 

rhymed  verse  in  the  vernacular,  the  acts  of  men 
and  their  deserts,  poetically  treated)  could  not 
be  brought  to  an  end  in  a  short  space,  and 
especially  by  a  man  who  was  agitated  by  many 
and  various  accidents  of  fortune,  all  full  of  an- 
guish, and  envenomed  with  bitterness,  as  has 
been  shown  above  was  the  case  with  Dante, — 
so  from  the  hour  at  which  it  is  said  above  that 
he  devoted  himself  to  this  high  work,  the  labor 
continued  up  to  the  end  of  his  life,  although, 
notwithstanding  this,  he  composed  other  works 
in  the  meanwhile,  as  will  appear.  Nor  will  it 
be  superfluous  to  touch  in  part  on  some  acci- 
dents that  happened  with  regard  to  the  begin- 
ning and  the  end  of  this  work. 


XIV 

SOME    ACCIDENTS   THAT    HAPPENED   WITH 
REGARD   TO   THE   DIVINE   COMEDY 


SAY  that  while  he  was  most 
intent  on  the  glorious  work, 
and  already  had  composed 
seven  cantos  of  the  first  part 
of  it,  which  he  called  Hell,  in 
a  wonderful  allegory,  writing 
not  at  all  as  a  pa^an  but  as  a  Christian,  a  thing 
never  done  before  under  this  title,  there  hap- 
pened the  grievous  accident  of  his  exile,  or 
flight,  as  it  should  rather  be  called,  on  account 
of  which,  abandoning  this  and  everything  else, 
he  wandered  for  many  years,  with  uncertain 


THE  DIVINE  COMEDY  121 

plans,  with  different  friends  and  lords.  But 
even  as  we  must  most  certainly  believe  that 
against  what  God  ordains  fortune  can  oppose 
no  obstacle  by  which  she  can  divert  it  from  its 
accomplishment,  though  she  can  perhaps  delay 
it,  it  happened  that  some  one  (searching  for  a 
necessary  document  among  things  of  Dante's 
in  certain  chests  that  had  been  hastily  rescued 
and  put  in  sacred  places,  at  the  time  that  the 
ingrate  and  disorganized  people,  more  eager 
for  booty  than  for  just  revenge,  rushed  tumul- 
tuously  to  the  house)  found  the  said  seven  can- 
tos that  had  been  composed  by  Dante,  read 
them,  not  knowing  what  they  were,  with  admi- 
ration, and,  being  pleased  exceedingly  with 
them,  cleverly  withdrew  them  from  the  place 
where  they  were,  and  took  them  to  a  fellow 
citizen  of  ours,  whose  name  was  Dino  di 
messer  Lambertuccio,  a  famous  poet  in  Flor- 
ence in  those  times,  and  showed  them  to  him. 
At  the  sight  of  them  Dino,  a  man  of  high  in- 
telligence, marveled,  no  less  than  he  who  bad 
brought  them  to  him,  both  at  their  beautiful, 
polished,  and  ornate  style  and  at  the  profundity 
of  the  sense  which  he  seemed  to  feel  hidden 
under  the  fair  covering  of  words.    On  this  ac- 


122  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

count  and  on  account  of  the  place  whence  he 
had  drawn  them,  Dino,  as  well  as  the  bearer  of 
them,  judged  them  to  be,  as  they  were,  a  work 
of  Dante's.  Disturbed  that  it  should  remain 
imperfect,  and  because  they  could  not  by  them- 
selves determine  how  it  should  end,  they  de- 
liberated with  each  other  to  know  where  Dante 
was,  and  how  to  send  him  what  they  had  found, 
in  order  that,  if  it  should  be  feasible,  so  fine  a 
beginning  should  have  the  end  planned  for  it. 
On  investigation  they  heard  he  was  with  the 
Marquis  Moruello,  wrote  not  to  him  but  to  the 
Marquis  of  their  desire,  and  sent  him  the  seven 
cantos.  When  the  Marquis,  a  man  of  much 
understanding,  saw  them  and  thought  highly  of 
them,  he  showed  them  to  Dante,  asking  him  if 
he  knew  whose  work  they  were.  Dante  recog- 
nized them  at  once  and  replied  that  they  were 
his.  Then  the  Marquis  begged  him  to  have 
the  kindness  not  to  leave  so  high  a  beginning 
without  a  satisfactory  end.  "Of  course,"  said 
Dante,  "  I  believed  that  in  the  ruin  of  my 
things,  these  and  many  of  my  other  books  were 
lost,  and  on  account  of  this  belief  and  the  mul- 
titude of  other  troubles  that  came  upon  me 
with  my  exile,  I  had  completely  abandoned  the 


THE  DIVINE  COMEDY  123 

^reat  fancy  I  had  taken  up  in  this  work;  but 
since  fortune  has  unexpectedly  ^iven  it  back 
to  me,  and  it  pleases  you,  I  will  try  to  recall  to 
my  memory  my  first  conception,  and  proceed 
according  as  grace  is  given  me."  And  taking 
up,  not  without  trouble,  after  the  interval,  the 
abandoned  idea,  he  continued: 

**  I  say,  continuing,  that  long  before,"  etc., 

by  which  one  who  looks  closely  can  very  clearly 
recognize  the  joint  in  the  interrupted  work. 

The  magnificent  work  was,  then,  begun 
again  by  Dante,  but  perhaps  he  did  not,  as 
many  would  think,  conclude  it  without  sev- 
eral interruptions.  At  times,  when  the  gravity 
of  events  required,  he  put  it  aside  for  months 
and  years,  without  being  able  to  accomplish 
anything  on  it.  Nor  could  he  make  such  haste 
that  he  was  able  to  publish  all  of  it  before  death 
overtook  him.  It  was  his  custom,  when  he  had 
finished  six  or  seven  cantos,  more  or  less,  be- 
fore any  one  else  saw  it,  to  send  it  from  wher- 
ever be  was,  to  Messer  Cane  della  Scala,  whom 
he  reverenced  beyond  any  other  man  ;  and  after 
they  had  been  seen  by  him,  he  made  a  copy  for 
whoever  wished  it.    In  this  manner  he  sent  all 


124  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

except  the  last  thirteen  cantos,  and  he  had 
written  these  but  had  not  yet  sent  them,  when 
it  happened  that  he  died  without  having  in 
mind  that  he  was  leaving  them.  They  that  re- 
mained, his  sons  and  disciples,  searched  sev- 
eral times  and  for  several  months  among  all  his 
manuscripts  to  see  if  he  had  written  any  con- 
clusion for  his  work,  and  not  finding  in  any  way 
the  remaining  cantos,  all  his  friends  were  gen- 
erally distressed  that  God  had  not  at  least 
loaned  him  to  the  world  long  enough  to  have 
completed  the  little  remnant  of  his  work,  and 
so  not  finding  them,  they  despaired  of  further 
searching  and  desisted. 

Iacopo  and  Piero,  sons  of  Dante,  each  of 
whom  was  a  writer  of  verse,  on  the  persuasion 
of  some  of  their  friends,  had  resolved,  so  far  as 
they  could,  to  finish  their  father's  work,  that  it 
might  not  go  imperfect,  when  to  Iacopo,  who 
was  much  more  in  earnest  than  the  other,  ap- 
peared a  marvelous  vision,  which  not  only  de- 
stroyed his  foolish  presumption,  but  showed 
him  where  were  the  thirteen  cantos  which  were 
lacking  to  the  'Divine  Comedy  and  which  they 
could  not  find.  A  worthy  man  of  Ravenna, 
whose  name  was  Piero  Giardino,  for  a  long 


THE  DIVINE  COMEDY  125 

time  a  disciple  of  Dante,  related  that  ei^ht 
months  after  the  death  of  his  master,  the  afore- 
said Iacopo  came  to  his  house  one  night,  near 
to  the  hour  which  we  call  that  of  morning,  and 
told  him  that  that  night,  a  little  before  that 
time,  he  had  seen  in  his  sleep  Dante  his  father 
come  to  him  clothed  in  shining  raiment,  and 
with  an  unusual  light  shining  in  his  face.  He 
seemed  to  ask  his  father  if  he  was  alive  and  to 
hear  him  respond  yes,  but  in  the  true  life, 
not  ours.  Wherefore,  furthermore,  he  seemed 
again  to  ask  if  he  had  completed  his  work  be- 
fore passing  to  the  true  life,  and,  if  he  had  com- 
pleted it,  where  was  that  which  was  lacking 
and  which  they  had  never  been  able  to  find. 
To  this  he  seemed  for  the  second  time  to  hear 
for  response,  "Yes,  I  completed  it."  And  then  it 
seemed  that  his  father  took  him  by  the  hand, 
and  led  him  to  the  room  where  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  sleep  when  he  lived  in  this  life,  and 
touched  a  spot  there,  and  said  :  "  That  which  you 
have  so  much  sought  for  is  here."  And  these 
words  said,  it  appeared  to  him  that  at  the  same 
time  his  sleep  and  Dante  departed.  Therefore 
he  said  that  he  had  not  been  able  to  withstand 
coming  to  bear  witness  to  what  he  had  seen,  in 


126  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

order  that  together  they  might  go  to  search  in 
the  place  shown  to  him  (which  he  had  faith- 
fully kept  in  mind),  to  see  if  a  true  spirit  or  a 
false  delusion  had  designated  it.  Therefore, 
a  good  bit  of  the  night  still  remaining,  they 
started  together,  went  to  the  place  mentioned, 
and  there  found  a  mat  fixed  to  the  wall. 
Gently  lifting  this,  they  saw  a  little  opening 
which  neither  of  them  had  seen  before  nor 
knew  that  it  was  there,  and  in  it  they  found 
some  writings,  all  mildewed  by  the  dampness 
of  the  wall,  and  near  to  rotting  if  they  had 
stayed  a  little  longer.  Carefully  cleaning  them 
from  the  mildew,  they  read  them,  and  saw  they 
contained  the  thirteen  cantos  so  much  sought 
by  them.  Therefore  in  great  joy,  copying  them, 
they  sent  them  first,  according  to  the  custom  of 
the  author,  to  Messer  Cane,  and  then  joined 
them,  as  was  fitting,  to  the  imperfect  work.  In 
this  manner  the  work,  composed  in  many  years, 
was  completed. 


XV 

WHY  THE  COMEDY  IS  WRITTEN  IN 
THE  VULGAR  TONGUE 

■ANY  people,  and  amon^ 
them  some  wise  men,  raise 
as  a  rule  this  point.  Inas- 
much as  Dante  was  a  dis- 
tinguished man  of  learning, 
why  did  he  determine  to 
compose  a  book  so  great  and  notable,  and  deal- 
ing with  such  high  matters  as  does  his  Com- 
edy, in  the  Florentine  idiom,  and  not  rather  in 
Latin  verse,  as  other  poets  have  done  before 
him?  To  this  question  I  reply  that  among 
many  reasons  two  especial  ones  occur  to  me. 
Of  these  the  first  is,  that  it  was  for  the  sake  of 
more  common  utility  to  his  fellow-citizens  and 


128  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

other  Italians;  for  he  knew  that  if  he  wrote 
Latin  verse,  as  other  previous  poets  had  done, 
he  would  have  been  useful  only  to  the  lettered; 
and  if  he  wrote  in  the  vulvar  tongue  he  would 
accomplish  something  that  had  never  been  done 
before,  would  not  prevent  its  bein^  understood 
by  the  lettered,  and  would  show  the  beauty  of 
our  idiom  and  his  excellent  skill  in  it,  and  ^ive 
delight  and  understanding  of  himself  to  the  un- 
lettered, who  had,  up  to  this  point,  been  neg- 
lected by  all.  The  second  reason  that  led  him 
to  this  was  as  follows.  He  saw  that  liberal 
studies  had  been  neglected  by  all,  and  espe- 
cially by  princes  and  other  great  men  to  whom 
poetical  works  are  customarily  dedicated;  and 
that  therefore  both  the  divine  works  of  Virgil 
and  those  of  other  noted  poets  were  not  only 
held  in  slight  esteem,  but  almost  despised  by 
the  majority.  He  then  began,  as  his  lofty 
material  demanded,  in  this  fashion: 

"  Ultima    regna    canam,    fluido     contermina 

mundo, 
Spiritibus  que  lata  patent,  que  premia  solvunt 
Pro  meritis  cuicumque  suis,"  etc. 

[The  furthest  realms  I  sing,  conterminous  with  the  fluid 
universe,  for  spirits  broad-lying,  where  each  has  his  re- 
ward according  to  his  merits,  etc.] 


THE  DIVINE  COMEDY  129 

There  be  stopped;  for  he  thought  it  was 
vain  to  put  crusts  of  bread  in  the  mouths  of 
those  who  were  still  sucking  milk,  and  so  be- 
gan his  work  again  in  a  style  fitted  for  modern 
ears,  and  continued  it  in  the  vulgar  tongue. 

This  book  of  the  Comedy,  as  some  say,  be 
dedicated  to  three  illustrious  Italians,  to  each 
one  a  part,  in  accordance  with  its  triplex  divi- 
sion, in  this  fashion.  The  first  part,  namely 
Hell,  he  dedicated  to  Uguccione  della  Fag- 
giuola, who  was  then  wonderfully  famous  in 
Tuscany  as  the  lord  of  Pisa;  the  second  part, 
namely  Purgatory,  he  dedicated  to  the  Marquis 
Moruello  Malaspina;  the  third  part,  namely 
Paradise,  be  dedicated  to  Frederick  III,  King 
of  Sicily.  Some  say  that  be  had  dedicated  it 
all  to  Messer  Cane  Grande  della  Scala,  but 
which  of  these  two  suppositions  is  truth  we 
have  no  evidence  of  except  the  gratuitous  sup- 
position of  several  people,  and  it  is  not  a  fact  of 
such  importance  that  it  needs  careful  investi- 
gation. 


XVI 

THE   BOOK   OF   MONARCHY  AND 
OTHER  WORKS 


HIS  illustrious  author  like- 
wise, at  the  coming  of  the 
Emperor  Henry  VH  wrote  a 
book  in  Latin  prose,  the  title 
of  which  is  Monarchy,  and 
which  he  divided  into  three 
parts  in  accordance  with  three  points  which 
he  settled  in  it.  In  the  first,  by  logical  argu- 
ments, he  proves  that  the  Empire  is  necessary 
to  the  well  being  of  the  world;  this  is  the  first 
point.  In  the  second,  proceeding  by  historical 
arguments,  he  shows  that  Rome  rightfully  holds 
the  title  of  the  Empire,  which  is  the  second 


OTHER  WORKS  I  31 

point.  In  the  third,  by  theological  arguments, 
he  proves  that  the  authority  of  the  Empire  pro- 
ceeds directly  from  God,  without  the  mediation 
of  any  vicar  of  His,  as  it  seems  that  the  clergy 
will  have  it;  and  this  is  the  third  point.  This 
book,  some  years  after  the  death  of  its  author, 
was  condemned  by  Messer  Beltrando,  Car- 
dinal of  Poggetto,  and  Legate  of  the  Pope  in 
the  parts  of  Lombardy,  while  John  XXII  was 
pope.  And  the  reason  was  that  Louis,  Duke 
of  Bavaria,  having  been  elected  King  of  the 
Romans  by  the  electors  of  Germany,  came  to 
Rome  for  his  coronation  contrary  to  the  plea- 
sure of  the  said  Pope  John,  and,  being  in  Rome, 
against  ecclesiastical  ordinances  he  made  pope 
a  minor  friar  called  Brother  Piero  della  Cor- 
vara,  and  many  cardinals  and  bishops,  and  had 
himself  crowned  there  by  this  Pope.  And  as 
his  authority  was  questioned  in  many  instances, 
he  and  his  followers,  finding  this  book,  began 
to  use  it  to  defend  themselves  and  their  au- 
thority by  many  of  the  arguments  in  it;  where- 
fore the  book,  which  up  to  this  time  was  scarcely 
known,  became  very  famous.  Afterwards,  when 
the  said  Louis  had  returned  to  Germany,  and 
bis  followers,  especially  the  clergy,  came   to 


132  LIFE  OP  DANTE 

their  downfall  and  were  dispersed,  the  said 
cardinal,  there  being  no  one  to  oppose  it,  seized 
the  aforesaid  book,  and  condemned  it  in  public 
to  the  flames,  as  containing  heretical  matter. 
And  similarly  he  tried  to  burn  the  bones  of  the 
author,  to  the  eternal  infamy  and  confusion  of 
his  memory,  and  would  have  succeeded  if  he 
had  not  been  opposed  by  a  noble  and  worthy 
Florentine  knight,  whose  name  was  Pino  della 
Tosa,  who  was  then  at  Bologna,  where  the 
discussion  was  carried  on,  and  with  him 
Messer  Ostagio  da  Polenta,  who  each  of  them 
had  influence  over  the  aforesaid  cardinal. 

Besides  these,  the  said  Dante  composed  two 
beautiful  eclogues,  which  were  dedicated  and 
sent  by  him,  in  response  to  certain  verses,  to 
Master  Giovanni  del  Virgilio,  of  whom  I  have 
once  made  mention  above.  He  also  composed  a 
comment  in  prose,  in  the  vulgar  Florentine 
tongue,  on  three  of  his  elaborate  odes,  although 
he  seems  to  have  intended,  when  he  began,  to 
comment  on  them  all,  but  afterwards,  either 
through  change  of  mind,  or  for  lack  of  time, 
did  not  comment  on  more  than  these;  and  this 
he  entitled  'Banquet,  a  very  fair  and  worthy 
little  work. 


OTHER  WORKS  133 

Afterwards,  when  near  his  death,  he  com- 
posed a  little  book  in  Latin  prose,  which  he 
entitled  On  the  Vulgar  Tongue,  in  which  he 
intended  to  ^ive  instruction  with  regard  to 
writing  verses  to  whoever  would  take  it;  and 
although  he  appears  to  have  had  in  mind  to 
compose  four  parts  of  this  little  book,  either  he 
did  not  do  it  before  death  overtook  him,  or  the 
others  were  lost,  for  only  two  are  extant.  This 
worthy  poet  also  wrote  many  prose  letters  in 
Latin,  of  which  some  still  survive.  He  com- 
posed many  elaborate  odes,  sonnets,  and  bal- 
lads, both  amorous  and  ethical,  besides  those 
which  appear  in  his  New  Life,  of  all  of  which  I 
do  not  care  to  make  especial  mention  at  present. 

In  such  works  as  I  have  described  above,  this 
illustrious  man  consumed  all  the  time  which  he 
could  steal  from  his  amorous  si^hs,  his  piteous 
tears,  his  private  and  public  cares,  and  the 
various  fluctuations  of  hostile  fortune, —  works 
more  acceptable  to  God  and  man  than  the 
deceit,  and  fraud,  and  lyin^,  and  robbery,  and 
treachery  which  the  majority  of  men  practise 
to-day,  seeking  by  diverse  ways  the  same  goal, 
namely,  becoming  rich,  as  if  all  success  and 
honor  and  blessedness  consist  in  that.  Oh, 
9* 


134  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

foolish  minds!  One  brief  fragment  of  an  hour, 
when  the  spirit  is  separated  from  the  failing 
body,  will  brinato  naught  all  these  blameworthy 
toils;  and  time,  which  must  consume  all  things, 
will  either  speedily  brin^  to  naught  the  memory 
of  the  rich,  or  preserve  it  for  a  little  while  to  his 
shame.  This  surely  shall  not  happen  to  our 
poet,  but  rather,  even  as  we  see  implements  of 
war  become  more  brilliant  by  usa^e,  so  will  it 
be  with  his  name;  the  more  it  is  burnished  by 
time,  the  more  shining  will  it  ever  become. 
And  therefore  let  him  who  will  toil  on  in  his 
vain  pursuits,  and  let  it  suffice  him  to  be  let 
alone,  without  seeking  to  inflict  on  another's 
virtuous  action  censure  which  he  does  not  un- 
derstand himself. 


XVII 

EXPLANATION  OF  THE  DREAM  OF  DANTE'S 
MOTHER   AND   CONCLUSION 


HAVE  shown  briefly  the  ori- 
gin, studies,  life,  habits,  and 
works  of  that  splendid  man 
and  illustrious  poet,  Dante 
Alighieri,  and  made  besides 
certain  digressions,  according 
as  I  have  been  permitted  by  Him  who  is  the 
^iver  of  every  ^race.  I  know  that  many  others 
could  have  done  it  much  better  and  more  dis- 
creetly, but  he  who  does  what  he  can,  no  more 
is  required  of  him.  My  having  written  what  I 
could  will  not  serve  as  a  bar  to  any  one  else 
who  believes  that  he  can  write  better  than  I 


136  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

have  done.  Indeed,  perhaps,  if  I  have  anywhere 
erred,  I  shall,  to  tell  the  truth,  ^ive  to  another 
an  occasion  for  writing  about  our  Dante,  which 
up  to  this  time  I  find  no  one  has  done.  But  my 
task  is  not  yet  at  an  end.  One  portion  in  the 
plan  which  I  promised  for  my  work  remains 
for  me  to  conclude;  that  is,  the  dream  of  the 
mother  of  our  poet,  seen  by  her  when  she  was 
pregnant  with  him.  Of  this  I  intend  to  deliver 
myself  as  briefly  as  I  can,  and  bring  my  essay 
to  an  end. 

The  gentle  lady  in  her  pregnancy  saw  her- 
self at  the  foot  of  a  lofty  laurel,  hard  by  a  clear 
spring,  and  there  gave  birth  to  a  son,  who,  as  I 
have  above  said,  in  a  short  time,  feeding  on  the 
falling  berries  of  that  laurel  and  the  water  of 
the  spring,  became  a  great  shepherd,  and  ex- 
ceedingly desirous  of  the  berries  of  the  laurel 
under  which  he  was.  While  he  tried  to  reach 
them,  it  appeared  to  her  that  he  fell,  and  sud- 
denly she  seemed  to  see,  not  him,  but  instead 
of  him  a  beautiful  peacock.  Disturbed  by  this 
marvel,  the  gentle  lady  awoke  from  her  sweet 
sleep  without  seeing  more  of  him. 

The  divine  goodness,  which  from  all  eter- 
nity, as  well  as  now,  foresees  every  future  event, 


THE  DREAM  137 

is  of  its  own  beneficence  accustomed,  when 
nature,  its  general  minister,  is  about  to  produce 
some  unusual  effect  amon^  mortals,  to  make 
us  aware  of  it  by  some  proof,  either  by  si^n  or 
dreams,  or  in  some  other  manner,  in  order  that 
we  may  take  notice  by  that  si^n  that  all  know- 
ledge of  nature's  products  rests  in  the  Lord. 
Such  a  si^n,  if  we  look  clearly,  was  ^iven  in  the 
coming  into  the  world  of  the  poet  of  whom  so 
much  has  been  said  above.  And  to  what  per- 
son could  this  si^n  have  been  ^iven  who  would 
have  seen  and  observed  it  with  so  ^reat  affec- 
tion as  she  who  was  to  be  the  mother  of  the 
thin^  shown?  Surely  to  no  one  rather  than  to 
her.  And  that  which  God  showed  her  is  al- 
ready manifest  to  us  through  the  above  writing, 
but  that  which  he  meant  must  be  examined  with 
a  more  careful  eye.  The  lady,  then,  seemed  to 
give  birth  to  a  son,  and  so  she  did  within  a 
short  time  after  she  saw  the  vision.  But  we 
must  see  what  the  lofty  laurel  under  which  he 
fed  signified. 

It  is  the  opinion  of  astrologers  and  of  many 
natural  philosophers  that  the  virtue  and  influ- 
ence of  higher  bodies  produce,  nourish,  and 
even,  if  the  illuminating  power  of  divine  grace 


138  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

does  not  resist,  ^uide  inferior  bodies.  Where- 
fore, according  as  that  superior  body  is  most 
powerful  in  the  degree  that  rises  above  the 
horizon  in  the  hour  when  one  is  born,  they  say 
that  the  child  is  disposed,  that  is,  according  to 
the  qualities  of  that  body.  Therefore  the  laurel, 
under  which  the  lady  seemed  to  give  our  Dante 
to  the  world,  seems  to  me  to  mean  that  the  dis- 
position of  heaven  at  his  nativity  showed  itself 
to  be  such  that  it  foretold  a  great  mind  and 
poetic  eloquence,  which  two  things  are  signified 
by  the  laurel,  the  tree  of  Phoebus,  with  whose 
leaves  poets  are  accustomed  to  be  crowned, 
as  has  already  been  shown  above.  The  berries 
from  which  the  child  took  his  nourishment  I 
understand  to  be  the  effects  which  have  al- 
ready arisen  from  the  disposition  of  heaven, 
which  has  been  explained.  These  are  the  po- 
etical books  and  theirteachings,  by  which  books 
and  teachings  our  Dante  was  most  worthily 
nourished,  that  is  to  say,  taught.  The  clear 
spring,  of  whose  waters  it  appeared  to  her  that 
he  drank,  means,  I  judge,  nothing  else  than  the 
richness  of  the  teachings  of  moral  and  natural 
philosophy.  Just  as  the  spring  proceeds  from 
the  hidden  richness  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 


THE  DREAM  139 

SO  these  teachings  take  their  essence  and  cause 
from  the  copious  demonstrative  reasoning, 
which  may  be  called  the  richness  of  the  earth. 
And  just  as  food  cannot  be  well  digested  with- 
out drinking,  in  the  stomach  of  him  who  takes 
it,  so  no  knowledge  can  be  well  adapted  to  the 
intellect  if  it  is  not  ordered  and  arranged  by 
philosophic  demonstrations.  We  may,  there- 
fore, well  say  that,  by  the  aid  of  the  clear 
water — that  is,  of  philosophy  —  he  digested  in 
bis  stomach, — that  is,  his  intellect, — the  berries 
on  which  he  fed  —  that  is,  poetry  —  which,  as 
has  been  said,  he  studied  with  the  greatest  care. 
His  suddenly  becoming  a  shepherd  shows 
the  excellence  of  his  talent,  inasmuch  as  he 
suddenly  became  so  great  a  man  that  in  a  brief 
space  of  time  he  comprehended  by  study  that 
which  was  necessary  for  him  in  order  to  be- 
come a  shepherd  (pastor),  that  is  to  say,  a  giver 
of  food  (pasture)  to  other  intellects  that  had 
need  of  it.  As  every  one  may  easily  understand, 
there  are  two  sorts  of  shepherds;  one,  the 
shepherds  of  the  body,  the  other,  the  shepherds 
of  the  soul.  The  shepherds  of  the  body  are  of 
two  sorts,  of  which  the  first  is  that  of  those 
who  are  commonly  called  shepherds,  that  is  to 


140  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

say,  the  guardians  of  sheep  and  oxen  and  other 
animals.  The  second  sort  are  the  fathers  of 
families,  by  whose  care  must  be  fed  and  guarded 
and  governed  flocks  of  children  and  of  servants 
and  of  others  subject  to  them.  The  shepherds 
of  the  soul  may  likewise  be  said  to  be  of  two 
sorts,  of  which  one  consists  of  those  who  feed 
the  souls  of  the  living  with  the  word  of  God; 
and  these  are  prelates,  preachers,  priests,  to 
whose  custody  are  committed  the  fragile  souls 
of  whoever  is  under  the  control  ordained  for 
each.  The  other  is  that  of  those  who,  by  their 
great  learning,  either  through  reading  what 
others  have  written  or  writing  anew  that  which 
appears  to  them  to  have  been  omitted  or  not 
clearly  explained,  teach  the  minds  and  intel- 
lects of  their  hearers  and  readers.  These  are 
generally  called  doctors,  of  whatever  faculty 
they  may  be.  Of  this  sort  of  shepherd  did  our 
poet  become  suddenly,  that  is,  in  a  short  time. 
And  that  this  is  true,  letting  pass  other  works 
composed  by  him,  may  be  seen  by  regarding  his 
Comedy,  which,  by  the  sweetness  and  beauty 
of  its  text,  feeds  not  only  men,  but  children  and 
women,  and,  by  the  admirable  suavity  of  the 
profound  meaning  there  concealed,  refreshes 


THE  DREAM  MI 

and  feeds  strong  intellects,  after  that  it  has  a 
while  held  them  in  suspense.  His  endeavoring 
to  have  of  the  leaves  of  the  tree  whose  fruit 
had  nourished  him,  shows  nothing  else  than 
his  ardent  desire,  as  has  been  said  above,  for 
the  laurel  crown,  which  is  desired  for  no  other 
reason  than  to  bear  witness  to  the  fruit.  While 
he  was  most  ardently  desiring  these  leaves,  she 
says  that  she  saw  him  fall.  This  falling  is  no- 
thing if  not  the  falling  which  must  come  to  us 
all  without  rising,  that  is  to  say,  death,  which, 
if  that  which  was  said  above  be  recalled,  came 
upon  him  when  he  most  desired  his  coronation. 
She  says  next  that  from  a  shepherd  she  saw 
him  suddenly  become  a  peacock.  By  this 
change  we  may  understand  his  posterity,  which, 
although  it  consists  also  of  his  other  works, 
lives  especially  in  his  Comedy j  which,  accord- 
ing to  my  judgment,  is  admirably  conformed  to 
the  peacock,  if  the  characteristics  of  both  are 
observed.  Among  other  characteristics  the 
peacock,  as  it  appears,  has  four  that  are  nota- 
ble. The  first  is  that  he  has  angelic  plumage, 
and  in  that  he  has  a  hundred  eyes;  the  second 
is,  that  he  has  foul  feet  and  a  noiseless  tread; 
the  third  is,  that  he  has  a  very  horrible  voice 


142  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

to  bear;  the  fourth  and  last  is,  that  his  flesh  is 
fragrant  and  incorruptible.  These  four  things 
the  Comedy  of  our  poet  has  plainly  in  itself; 
but,  inasmuch  as  the  order  in  which  they  have 
been  stated  cannot  be  fittingly  followed,  I  will 
take  them  up  in  a  different  order,  beginning 
with  the  last. 

I  say  that  the  sense  of  our  Comedy  is  like 
the  flesh  of  the  peacock,  because,  whether  you 
call  it  moral  or  theological,  it  is,  at  whatever 
part  of  the  work  most  pleases  you,  the  simple 
and  immutable  truth,  which  not  only  cannot 
receive  corruption,  but,  the  more  it  is  searched, 
the  greater  odor  of  incorruptible  sweetness  it 
emits  to  those  who  regard  it.  Of  this  many 
examples  might  easily  be  given,  if  the  present 
subject  would  permit  it;  but,  without  mention- 
ing any,  I  will  leave  the  searching  out  of  them 
to  those  that  understand.  I  say  that  angelic 
plumage  covers  this  flesh.  And  I  say  angelic, 
not  because  I  know  that  angels  have  any  plum- 
age of  this  sort  or  another  sort;  but,  conjectur- 
ing that  they  are  like  mortals,  and  hearing  that 
they  fly,  I  suppose  that  they  should  have  feath- 
ers; and,  not  knowing  among  our  birds  any 
more  beautiful  or  more  exquisite,  or  so  beauti- 


THE  DREAM  143 

fui  as  the  plumage  of  the  peacock,  I  imagine 
they  must  have  such  plumage;  and  I  do  not 
nanne  the  plumage  of  the  angels  from  that  of 
the  peacock,  but  the  peacock's  plumage  from 
that  of  the  angels,  for  the  an^el  is  a  more 
noble  bird  than  the  peacock.  By  this  plumage 
which  covers  this  body,  I  understand  the  beauty 
of  the  exquisite  narrative,  which  is  evident  on 
the  surface  in  the  reading  of  the  Comedy,  as  in 
his  descending  into  hell,  his  seeing  the  charac- 
ter of  the  place  and  the  various  condition  of  the 
inhabitants,  his  ascending  the  mountain  of  pur- 
gatory, and  hearing  the  cries  and  laments  of 
those  who  hope  to  be  holy,  and  then  his  ascent 
into  paradise,  and  seeing  the  ineffable  glory  of 
the  blessed, —  a  narrative  so  beautiful  and  so 
exquisite  that  never  one  more  so  was  thought 
or  heard  by  any  one.  The  poem  is  divided 
into  a  hundred  cantos,  even  as  some  hold  that 
the  peacock  has  in  his  tail  a  hundred  eyes. 
These  cantos  distinguish  as  wisely  the  appro- 
priate parts  of  the  treatise  as  the  eyes  distin- 
guish the  colors  and  the  diversity  of  objects. 
The  flesh  of  our  peacock  is,  therefore,  clearly 
covered  with  angelic  plumage. 

In  the  same  way  the  feet  of  this  peacock  are 


144  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

foul  and  his  tread  soft,  and  these  things  corre- 
spond admirably  with  the  Comedy  of  our  au- 
thor. For  even  as  on  the  feet  it  is  evident  that 
the  whole  body  is  sustained,  so  prima  facie  it 
appears  that  by  the  method  of  speech  every 
work  composed  in  writing  is  sustained,  and  the 
vulvar  speech,  in  which  and  on  which  every 
joint  of  the  Comedy  is  sustained,  is  in  compari- 
son with  that  lofty  and  masterly  literary  style 
which  every  other  poet  uses,  foul,  although  it 
is  more  beautiful  than  the  others,  and  conforms 
more  to  the  taste  of  to-day.  His  soft  tread 
signifies  the  humility  of  the  style,  which  is 
made  necessary  in  comedies,  as  they  know  who 
understood  what  comedy  means. 

Finally,  I  say  that  the  voice  of  the  peacock 
is  horrible,  and  this,  although  the  sweetness  of 
the  words  of  our  poet  is  ^reat  at  first  appear- 
ances, admirably  corresponds  with  him,  with- 
out fault,  to  one  who  considers  the  pith  within. 
Who  cries  out  more  horribly  than  he,  when 
with  his  bitter  imagination  he  rebukes  the 
faults  of  many  living,  and  chastises  those  of 
the  dead?  What  voice  is  more  horrid  to  him 
who  is  disposed  to  sin  than  the  voice  of  him 
who  chastises?    Surely,  none.    With  his  dem- 


THE  DREAM  145 

onstrations  he  at  once  terrifies  the  ^ood  and 

o 

saddens  the  bad.  Therefore  it  appears,  so  far 
as  this  matter  is  concerned,  that  he  can  be  said 
to  have  a  voice  truly  horrid.  On  this  account 
and  on  account  of  the  other  reasons  touched 
upon,  it  is  very  apparent  that  he  who  when 
alive  was  a  shepherd,  after  his  death  became 
a  peacock,  even  as  we  may  believe  that  it  was, 
by  divine  inspiration,  revealed  in  a  dream  to  his 
dear  mother. 

This  exposition  of  the  dream  of  the  mother 
of  our  poet  I  know  that  I  have  performed  very 
superficially  ;  and  this  for  many  reasons.  First, 
because  I  had  not  perhaps  the  ability  that  is 
required  for  so  great  a  task  ;  next,  even  granted 
that  that  be  so,  the  principal  idea  would  not 
permit  it;  last,  even  if  I  had  the  ability  and  the 
subject  had  permitted  it,  I  should  have  done 
well  not  to  say  more  than  has  been  said,  in  or- 
der that  something  be  left  for  one  to  say  who 
has  more  ability  than  I  and  more  desire. 
Wherefore,  now  that  I  have  said  as  much  as 
seems  to  me  to  be  properly  sufficient,  let  what- 
ever is  lacking  be  left  to  the  care  of  him  who 
follows. 

My  little  bark  is  now  come  to  the  port  towards 

10 


146 


LIFE  OF  DANTE 


which  it  directed  its  prow  when  departing  from 
the  other  shore;  and  although  the  voyage  has 
been  short  and  the  sea  which  it  has  furrowed 
low  and  tranquil,  nevertheless,  because  it  has 
arrived  without  obstacle,  I  should  render  thanks 
to  Him  who  has  lent  its  sails  a  favorable  breeze, 
to  whom,  with  all  the  humility  and  devotion 
and  affection  that  I  possess,  not  such  thanks 
as  are  deserved,  but  such  as  I  can  give,  I  ren- 
der, blessing  forever  His  name  and  His  worth. 


} 


NOTE  ON  THE  PORTRAITS 
OF  DANTE 


NOTE  ON  THE  PORTRAITS  OF  DANTE 


'ANTE'S  face  is  more  familiar 
to  the  world  than  that  of  any 
other  ^reat  poet,  except  per- 
haps Homer.  The  features 
ascribed  to  Homer,  however, 
are  due  to  the  Greek  imagina- 
tion; those  ascribed  to  Dante  we  have  many 
reasons  for  believing  to  have  been  drawn  by 
the  hands  of  those  who  had  seen  him  with  the 
eyes  of  the  flesh. 

The  problem  of  determining  the  relations 
and  respective  claims  to  authenticity  of  the 
many  representations  of  Dante  which  are  of 
some  antiquity  has  been  approached  by  several 

10* 


150  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

writers  of  learning  and  judgment  in  such  mat- 
ters, notably  by  Professor  Norton  in  his  Original 
'Portraits  of  Òante  (1865)  and  by  the  late  Dr. 
Paurin  his 'Dante' sPorf rat  {Jahrbuchder'Deut- 
schen  'Dante-Gesellschaft,  1869,  vol.  2).  The 
most  convenient  source  of  information  in  Eng- 
lish is  Mr.  Lane's  "Note  on  the  Portraits  of 
Dante"  (in  his  'Dante  Collection  in  the  Harvard 
College  and 'Boston  'Public  Libraries,  1890). 
Some  interesting  details  are  also  to  be  found  in 
the  similar  note  in  Plumptre's  'Dante,  1 886-87, 
vol.  2.  The  most  recent,  as  well  as  the  most 
complete  discussion  of  the  subject  is  that  con- 
tained in  Dr.  Kraus's  'Dante:  Sein  Leben  und 
sein  ZVerkj  sein  Verhdltniss  zur  Kunst  und  zur 
Politik  (1897,  bk.  I,  chap.  10).  The  author 
is  a  distinguished  student  of  art  and  letters,  and 
the  chapter  which  he  devotes  to  Dante's  por- 
traits is  the  most  authoritative  treatment  of  the 
matter  that  has  yet  appeared.  Almost  without 
exception  the  portraits  mentioned  below  are 
reproduced  in  bis  work,  and  the  reader  is  re- 
ferred to  it,  and  to  the  books  mentioned  in  it, 
for  a  full  discussion  of  all  important  points. 

The  principal  portraits  of  Dante  are  the  fol- 
lowing : 


PORTRAITS  151 

(l)  The  portrait  contained  in  the  fresco  in 
the  Bargello  at  Florence.  It  is  ascribed  to 
Giotto,  and  is  supposed  to  be  identical  with 
that  referred  to  by  Filippo  Villani,  Vasari,  and 
others.  It  had  lon^  been  concealed  by  white- 
wash, and  was  discovered  only  in  1840.  Pre- 
vious to  its  restoration  by  Marini,  Mr.  Sey- 
mour Kirkup,  an  English  artist,  made  tracings 
of  Dante's  portrait,  and,  on  the  basis  of  these, 
a  drawing  in  color,  which  was  published  by  the 
Arundel  Society  in  1859-  Some  critics,  espe- 
cially Passerini  and  Milanesi,  in  an  official 
report  in  1865,  have  maintained  that  the  fresco 
could  not  have  been  by  Giotto,  who  died  early 
in  I  337,  because,  first,  it  would  have  been  de- 
stroyed by  the  fires  of  1332  and  1345,  and, 
second,  an  inscription  connected  with  the  fresco 
points  to  the  date  I  337-38.  But  evidently  the 
fire  of  1345  did  not  destroy  the  fresco,  as  the 
inscription  of  1337  shows,  and  there  is  nothing 
to  show  that  the  fire  of  1332  was  more  exten- 
sive; and  the  inscription  and  the  figure  it  ac- 
companies need  not  have  absolutely  the  same 
date  as  the  part  of  the  fresco  that  includes  the 
figure  of  Dante.  Kraus,  with  other  critics  of 
reputation,  maintains  that  the  portrait   is  by 


152  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

Giotto,  and  was  probably  painted  by  him  in 
1334-7,  after  Dante's  death  and  during  a  reac- 
tion of  feeling  in  his  favor.  He  thinks  it  natural 
that  Giotto  should  have  represented  Dante  as 
a  youn^  man  before  his  exile,  and  side  by  side 
with  Corso  Donati,  his  political  enemy  at  that 
time.  It  should  be  noticed  that  even  if,  as  some 
experts  hold,  the  painting  is  not  that  of  Giotto, 
but  that  of  a  pupil,  there  still  remains  no  reason 
to  doubt  that  it  dates  from  an  early  period  and 
that  it  is  in  all  probability  an  authentic  record 
of  Dante's  youthful  features.  It  should  be  no- 
ticed, however,  that  the  artist  must  have  de- 
pended upon  his  memory  of  the  young  Dante, 
and  would  naturally  have  had  a  tendency  to 
idealize  his  features.  The  Giotto  portrait  is 
thus  the  origin  of  what  Kraus  calls  the  first 
type  of  the  Dante  face,  that  representing  him 
as  a  young  man,  before  his  exile,  and  presum- 
ably at  about  the  period  when  he  wrote  the 
New  Life. 

(2)  The  second  type,  that  representing 
Dante  as  old  and  worn,  takes  its  origin,  accord- 
ing to  the  brilliant  and  plausible  conjecture  of 
Kraus,  from  the  fresco  in  S.  Croce,  by  Taddeo 


PORTRAITS  153 

Gaddi,  referred  to  by  Vasari,  Lionardo  Bruni, 
and  others  as  containing  a  portrait  of  Dante. 
It  was  destroyed  by  the  tearing  down  of  a  wall 
in  1566,  and  we  have  of  course  not  the  slightest 
positive  knowledge  regarding  it. 

(3)  The  most  important  portrait  of  Dante 
extant  is,  according  to  Kraus,  the  so-called 
miniature  contained  in  the  Codex  Palatinus 
320,  in  the  National  Library  at  Florence.  The 
MS.  may  date  from  the  fourteenth  century. 
Kraus  evidently  thinks  the  miniature  the  pro- 
duction, or  a  copy  of  the  production,  of  some 
one  who  knew  Dante.  The  Giotto  portrait  is, 
according  to  him,  based  on  a  memory  of 
Dante's  youthful  face,  and  is  thus  somewhat 
idealized.  The  miniature  seems  to  him  to 
portray  Dante  at  about  the  age  of  forty. 

(4)  Next  in  interest  and  importance  is  the 
miniature  in  the  Codex  Riccardianus  1 040, 
from  a  photograph  of  which  the  frontispiece  of 
this  volume  was  engraved.  The  MS.  is  not 
earlier  than  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
but  the  Italian  commission  of  1865,  without 
due  deliberation,  pronounced  it  the  most  au- 


154  LIFE  OF  DANTE 

tbentic  portrait  extant.  This  judgment  can- 
not be  sustained.  The  miniature  seems  to  be 
a  fifteenth  century  reproduction  of  the  second 
type,  and  its  importance  is  based  on  that  sup- 
position. 

(5)  Another  fifteenth  century  reproduc- 
tion of  the  same  type  is  the  well-known  figure 
by  Domenico  di  Michelino  in  the  fresco  in  the 
Duomo  at  Florence.  The  heads  by  Signorelli 
and  Raphael  follow  the  same  type. 

(6)  I  have  reserved  until  the  last  the  ^roup 
of  so-called  death-masks,  of  which  the  most 
noted  are  the  plaster  cast  formerly  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  late  Mr.  Kirkup  and  the  colored 
Torri^iani  mask-bust  in  the  Uffizi.  If  gen- 
uine death-masks,  they  are  the  origin  of  the 
second  type.  By  many  they  are  regarded  as 
genuine.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  clear  that 
the  earliest  of  them  cannot  be  traced  back  fur- 
ther than  the  sixteenth  century,  that  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  the  process  of  taking  casts  of  that 
sort  was  known  in  Dante's  time,  and  that  the 
open  eyes,  the  cap,  the  arrangement  of  the  hair, 
and  other  signs  point  rather  to  modeling  than 


PORTRAITS 


155 


to  a  simple  cast.  Kraus  believes  the  so-called 
death-masks  to  be  fifteenth  century  produc- 
tions, based  on  the  second  type.  The  beauti- 
ful bronze  bust  at  Naples  is  based  on  the 
masks,  and  seems  to  belong  to  the  second  half 
of  the  sixteenth  century. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Aldighieri.  See  Alighieri 
and  Cacciaguida. 

Alighieri  (earlier  Aldighieri), 
origin  of  name,  37,  38 

Alighieri,  Alighiero  degli, 
father  of  Dante,  38;  at- 
tends feast  at  house  of 
Folco  Portinari,  44 

Alps,  crossed  by  Dante  on 
his  journey  into  Gaul,  64; 
Dante  recrosses,  65 

Amorosa  Visione,  Boccac- 
cio's, an  imitation  of  Dan- 
te's Divine  Comedy,  18 

Apennines,  Dante  passes 
over,  into  Romagna,  66 

Apollo.     See  Phoebus. 

Aquino,  birthplace  of  Juve- 


nal, 77  ;  her  name  made 
glorious  by  her  son,  77 

Aretino,  Lionardo.  Sec 
Bruni 

Argos,  glorious  by  the  titles 
of  her  kings,  76  ;  her  claim 
as  birthplace  of  Homer,  76 

Aristotle,  Greek  philos- 
opher, affirms  that  poets 
were  the  first  theologians, 
104 

Art,  in  Florence,  once  en- 
nobled by  genius,  now  cor- 
rupted by  avarice,  75 

Arundel  Society,  the,  pub- 
lishes colored  drawing  of 
Dante,  151 

Assyria,  growth  of,  30 


160 


INDEX 


Astrologers,  opinion  of,  137, 
138 

Athens,  splendid  in  know- 
ledge, eloquence,  and  war- 
fare, 76  ;  her  claim  as 
birthplace  of  Homer,  76 

Attila,  King  of  the  Vandals, 
devastates  Italy  and  de- 
stroys Florence,  35,  36 

Augustus,  Octavian,  bones 
of  Virgil  transported  from 
Brindisi  to  Naples  by  order 
of,  80 

Balaam.  See  under  Solo- 
mon 

Banquet  (Convito),  prose 
comment  by  Dante,  132;  a 
very  fair  and  worthy  little 
work,  132 

Bargello,  the,  portrait  of 
Dante  in,  15 1 

Bathsheba.     See  David 

Bavaria,  Duke  of.  See 
Louis 

Beatrice.  See  Portinari, 
Beatrice 

Beatrice,  daughter  of  Dante, 
a  nun  in  the  convent  of  San 
Stefano  dell'  Uliva,  14; 
Boccaccio  bears  subsidy 
from  company  of  Or  San 
Michele  to,  14 

Beltrando,  Messer,  Cardi- 
nal of  Poggetto,  Legate  of 
the  Pope,  131  ;  condemns 
Monarchy,     a     book      by 


Dante,  1 3 1,  132;  endea- 
vors to  burn  the  bones  of 
Dante,  132;  opposed  by 
Pino  della  Tosa  and  Os- 
tagio  da  Polenta,  1 31 

Biography,  no  knowledge  of, 
in  Boccaccio's  day,  20 

Boccaccio,  Giovanni,  Italian 
novelist andpoet, 13;  impos- 
sibility of  definitely  fixing 
date  of  his  Life  of  Dante, 
13;  conjectures  as  to  date 
of  the  Life,  13, 14;  lectures 
upon  Dante  by,  13;  incor- 
porates in  the  Life  a  pas- 
sage from  a  letter  of  Pe- 
trarch, 13;  his  visit  to 
Ravenna,  14;  serious  and 
earnest  character  of  his 
work,  14;  consideration 
of  various  opinions  as  to 
his  authorship  of  the  Life 
of  Dante,  15-17;  his  inter- 
est in  Dante,  17,  18;  sends 
Petrarch  a  codex  of  the 
Divine  Comedy,  18;  influ- 
ence of  Dante's  writings 
upon,  18;  appointed  at 
Florence  to  deliver  a  public 
course  of  lectures  on 
Dante's  Divine  Comedy, 
18;  birth  of,  19;  his  youth 
spent  in  Florence,  19; 
again,  for  various  periods, 
a  resident  of  Florence,  19; 
his   intimate    acquaintance 


I 


INDEX 


161 


with  Andrea  Poggi,  nephew 
of  Dante,  I9;  receivesmuch 
information  from  Poggi 
concerning  Dante's  ways 
and  habits,  19;  acquain- 
tance of,  with  Dino  Perini 
and  an  unknown  informant, 
19;  meets  Dante's  daugh- 
ter, Beatrice,  and  Piero 
Giardino  at  Ravenna,  19; 
his  reliable  sources  of 
information  concerning 
Dante,  20;  no  published 
information  as  to  Dante 
possessed  by,  20  ;  first 
biography  of  Dante  writ- 
ten by,  20  ;  few  accessible 
Latin  models  afford  little 
help  to,  20  ;  one  of  the 
greatest  compilers  of  his 
age,  20,  21  ;  his  failure  to 
foresee  the  expectations  of 
posterity,  21  ;  his  work  on 
Dante  a  classic,  21  ;  drawn 
upon  by  each  succeeding 
writer,  21  ;  his  essay  on 
Dante  contrasted  with  that 
of  Lionardo  Bruni,  21  ; 
criticized  by  Lionardo 
Bruni,  21-23;  modern 
criticism  of  Dante  coming 
more  and  more  to  lean  on 
Lionardo  Bruni  and,  23,24; 
contrasted  with  Lionardo, 
24;  founder  of  modern  lit- 
erary biography,  24  ;  his 
II 


serious  writings  suffer  from 
his  reputation  as  author  of 
the  Decameron,  24  ;  dream 
of  Dante's  mother  ex- 
plained allegorically  by, 
24,  25,  38,  39,  135-146; 
his  account  of  the  find- 
ing of  the  last  cantos  of 
the  Paradise,  25  ;  charged 
with  being  of  an  uncritical 
and  credulous  mind,  25  ; 
his  long  tirade,  apropos 
of  Gemma  Donati,  against 
wives,  25  ;  Dante  charged 
with  licentiousness  by,  25, 
27  ;  his  attitude  towards 
women  and  matrimony,  26, 
27  ;  his  conjecture  regard- 
ing Dante's  marriage,  26; 
his  statement  as  to  Gemma 
Donati,  26;  part  of  his  ti- 
rade borrowed  from  Thco- 
phrastus,  26;  over-atten- 
tion paid  to  allegorizing  by, 
27  ;  private  failings  of,  27  ; 
Dante's  character  empha- 
sized by,  27,  28  ;  precious 
information  given  by,  as  to 
Dante's  physical  appear- 
ance and  intellectual  hab- 
its, 28;  our  more  ample 
knowledge  of  Dante  among 
the  greatest  poets  largely 
due  to,  28  ;  of  same  city  as 
Dante,  33  ;  invokes  guid- 
ance of  God  in  his  work, 


162 


INDEX 


34;  on  love  and  marriage, 
43-56;  on  the  instability 
of  public  favor,  62  ;  re- 
proaches the  Florentines 
on  their  ingratitude  to 
Dante,  74-82;  discourses 
on  the  influence  of  women, 
1 14,  1 15  ;  on  the  vanity  of 
acquiring  riches,  133,  134; 
renders  thanks  to  God  on 
conclusion  of  his  work, 
145,  146 

Bologna,  Dante  goes  to,  42, 
64;  the  Lord  of  Ravenna 
dies  at,  72  ;  Dante  displays 
fierce  Ghibelline  partisan- 
ship at,  112,  113;  discus- 
sion concerning  Dante  at, 
132.     See  also  Virgilio 

Boniface  VIII,  Pope,  ap- 
proves selection  of  Charles 
to  direct  affairs  of  Flor- 
ence, 1 10;  proposed  em- 
bassy to,  in  opposition  to 
Charles,  1 10,  III 

Brescia,the  Emperor  Henry 
lays  siege  to,  65 

Brindisi,  bones  of  Virgil 
transported  to  Naples 
from,  80 

Bruni,  Lionardo  (Lionardo 
Aretino),  concise  bio- 
graphical sketch  of  Dante 
by,  21  ;  criticizes  Boccac- 
cio's essay  on  Dante,  21- 
23  ;  indifferent  to  Dante's 
"inner"  life,  23;   discrim- 


inating and  convincing 
treatment  of  Dante's  polit- 
ical career  by,  23  ;  modern 
criticism  of  Dante  coming 
more  and  more  to  lean  on 
Boccaccio  and,  23,  24; 
contrasted  with  Boccaccio, 
24  ;  his  critical  and  une- 
motional method  of  analy- 
sis, 24  ;  refers  to  fresco  by 
Taddeo  Gaddi  as  contain- 
ing portrait  of  Dante,  152, 
153 

Cacciaguida,  family  Elisei, 
marries  a  damsel  of  the 
Aldighieri  of  Ferrara,  37  ; 
leaves  many  children,  37 

Camilli,  the,  magnificent 
deeds  of,  77 

Camillus,  Marcus  Furius, 
Roman  general,  a  great  ex- 
ample, 62 

Casentino,  the,  Dante  so- 
journs in,  after  his  flight, 
64 

Cassius,  Parma  rejoices  in 
her  possession  of,  81 

Catos,  the,  magnificent 
deeds  of,  11 

Century,  interest  in  Dante 
reaches  lowest  point  in 
eighteenth,  14  ;  reawaken- 
ing of  love  for  mediasval 
literature  in  nineteenth,  14 

Charles,  relative  of  Philip, 
King  of  France,  called  to 
direct  affairs  of  Florence, 


INDEX 


163 


HO;  proposed  embassy  fo 
Pope  Boniface  in  opposi- 
tion to,  I  IO,  III 

Charles  the  Great,  King  of 
the  French,  elevated  to  the 
imperial  throne,  36;  re- 
builds the  city  of  Florence, 
36 

Chios,  splendid  city  of  the 
past,  76;  her  claim  as  the 
birthplace  of  Homer,  76 

Christ,  teachings  of,  99 

Christian  religion.  See  Re- 
ligion 

Chronicle,  Florentine.  See 
Villani 

Chronicle,  the,  a  familiar 
form  of  composition  in 
Boccaccio's  day,  20 

Chyme,  splendid  city  of  the 
past,  76  ;  her  claim  as  the 
birthplace  of  Homer,  76 

Cities,  Italian,  beginnings  of 
most,  taken  from  the  Ro- 
mans, 35;  grievous  op- 
pression of,  by  Guelphs 
and  G'hibellines,  112 

Claudian,  ancient  citizen  of 
Florence,  11 

Clement  V,  Pope,  approves 
election  of  Henry,  Count 
of  Luxemburg,  as  King  of 
the  Romans,  65 

Codex  Palatinus,  niinia- 
ture  of  Dante  in,  153 

Codex  Riccardianus,  minia- 
ture of  Dante  in,  153,  154 


Colophon,  splendid  city  of 
the  past,  76  ;  her  claim  as 
the  birthplace  of  Homer,  76 

Comedy,  Divine  (Divina 
Commedia),  first  Venetian 
edition  of,  14  ;  Boccaccio's 
Amorosa  Visione  an  imi- 
tation of,  18;  Florence 
establishes  a  public  course 
of  lectures  on,  18  ;  fame  of 
the  part  of,  entitled  Hell, 
84,  85  ;  origin  and  scheme 
of,  117,  118;  composed  in 
verse,  in  the  vulgar  tongue, 
with  great  art  and  beauty, 
1 18  ;  could  not  be  brought 
to  an  end  in  a  short  space, 
118,  1 19  ;  work  upon,  con- 
tinued to  the  end  of  Dante's 
life,  119;  accidents  at  be- 
ginning and  end  of,  119; 
Dante  exiled  after  complet- 
ing seven  cantos  of,  120; 
abandonment  of,  120,  121  ; 
the  seven  cantos  of,  recov- 

.  cred,.  1 2 1  ;  the  cantos  taken 
to  a  famous  poet  in  Flor- 
ence, 121  ;  their  beautiful, 
polished,  and  ornate  style, 
121;  profound  in  sense, 
121  ;  the  recovered  cantos 
of,  judged  to  be  Dante's 
work,  121,  122;  the  can- 
tos sent  to  Marquis  Mor- 
uello  Malaspina,  122;  the 
Marquis  shows  recovered 
cantos  of,  to   Dante,   122; 


164 


INDEX 


authorship  of  cantos  of, 
acknowledged  by  Dante, 
122;  the  Marquis  begs 
Dante  to  complete,  122; 
Dante    resumes    work    on, 

122,  123;  not  concluded 
without  interruptions,  123; 
not  all  published  at  Dante's 
death,  123;  sent  in  instal- 
ments to  Messer  Cane 
Grande  della  Scala,  123; 
a  copy  of,  made  for  who- 
ever wished  it,  123;  all 
except  last  thirteen  cantos 
of,   sent  to   Messer  Cane, 

123,  124;  unsuccessful 
search  of  Dante's  sons  and 
disciples  for  last  thirteen 
cantos  of,  124;  his  sons 
resolve  to  finish,  124;  lo- 
cation of  lost  cantos  of, 
revealed  to  Dante's  son 
Iacopo,  124;  Iacopo  dis- 
closes to  Giardino  vision 
concerning  lost  cantos  of, 
124,125;  Iacopo  and  Giar- 
dino go  to  place  of  lost 
cantos  of,  126;  concluding 
cantos  of,  found  by  Iacopo 
and  Giardino,  126;  the 
cantos  copied  and  sent  to 
Messer  Cane,  126;  con- 
cluding cantos  of,  joined 
to  incomplete  work,  126; 
great  and  notable,  and  deal- 
ing with  high  matters,  127  ; 


reasons  for  composition  of, 
in  Florentine  idiom,  127- 
129;  dedicated,  according 
to  some,  to  three  illustrious 
Italians,  129;  according  to 
others,  to  Messer  Cane, 
129;  sweetness  and  beauty 
of  text  of,  1 40  ;  its  profound 
meaning  refreshes  strong 
intellects,  140,  141  ;  char- 
acteristics of,  compared 
with  those  of  a  peacock, 
141-145 
Convito.  See  Banquet 
Corbaccio,    publication    of, 

26 
Coriolanus,    Cnasus     Mar- 
cius,      Roman      legendary 
hero,  a  great  example,  62 
Corvara,  Piero  della,  made 
Pope  by   Louis,    Duke    of 
Bavaria,  131 
Croce,  S.,  Church  of,  fresco 

in,  152,  153 
Cyprus,  Isle  of,  50 
Daniel,  visions  of,  102 
Dante       Alighieri,       Italian 
poet,  impossibility  of  defi- 
nitely fixing  date  of  Boc- 
caccio's    Life    of,    13,  14; 
Boccaccio's  lectures  upon, 
13  ;  his  daughter  Beatrice  a 
nun,  14;  interest  in,  reaches 
lowest  point  in  eighteenth 
century,    14;     Boccaccio's 
interest  in,   17,   18;    influ- 


INDEX 


165 


enee  of  writings  of,  upon 
Boccaccio,  18;  revulsion 
of  feeling  in  Florence  re- 
garding, probably  furthered 
by  Boccaccio,  18;  death 
of,  19;  an  exile,  19,  31; 
Boccaccio  receives  much 
information  concerning,  19, 
20;  no  published  sources 
of  information  on  the  sub- 
ject of,  20  ;  first  biography 
of,  written  by  Boccaccio, 
20  ;  Lionardo's  treatment 
of  political  career  of,  23  ; 
charged  by  Boccaccio  with 
licentiousness,  25,  27  ; 
Boccaccio's  conjecture  as 
to  marriage  of,  26  ;  modern 
criticism  and  the  works  of, 
23,  24  ;  dream  of  mother 
of,  24,  25,  38,39,  135,  146; 
probable  attitude  of,  to- 
wards matrimony,  26,  27  ; 
born  of  an  old  citizen 
family,  31,  34;  his  deeds 
worthy  of  the  highest  re- 
wards, 31  ;  unjust  and 
hasty  sentence  suffered  by, 
31,  32;  attempted  stain- 
ing of  his  glorious  fame, 
32;  his  flight,  32;  Boccac- 
cio of  same  city  as,  33  ;  his 
merits,  nobility,  and  worth, 
33;  a  great  poet,  34;  his 
life,  studies,  and  ways,  34  ; 
illustrious  among  genera- 
li* 


tions  yet  to  come,  34  ;  fit- 
tingly named,  39  ;  glory  of 
the  Italian  race,  39;  birth 
of,  39,  40  ;  his  early  studies, 
40-42  ;    goes   to   Bologna, 

42  ;  arrival,  when  near 
old  age,  in  Paris,  42, 
64  ;  his  many  disputations 
there,  42  ;  his  illustrious 
titles,  42  ;  wholly  given  up 
to  speculative  studies,  43  ; 
prey  of  the  fierce  and  un- 
endurable passion  of  love, 

43  ;  his  burdens,  43,  44  ; 
follows  his  father  to  feast 
at  house  of  Folco  Porti- 
nari,  44;  meets  Beatrice 
there  and  falls  in  love  with 
her,  44,  45,  46  ;  his  suffer- 
ings in  later  life  for  this 
love,  46  ;  virtuous  attitude 
of,  towards  Beatrice,  46, 
47  ;  his  love  an  adversary 
of  his  sacred  studies  and 
his  genius,  47  ;  his  graceful 
rhymes  in  the  Florentine 
idiom,  47  ;  grief  of,  at  death 
of  Beatrice,  48,  49,  52  ; 
change  in  outward  appear- 
ance of,  49  ;  his  relatives 
counsel  marriage,  49?  50; 
marriage  of,  50,  52  ;  parted 
from  his  wife  and  children, 
56,  63  ;  his  family  and  state 
cares,  57,  58  ;  Florence 
divided  into  two  parties  in 


166 


INDEX 


his  time,  58  ;  his  efforts  for 
unity  without  avail,  58,  59  ! 
purposes  to  relinquish,  then 
decides  to  retain,  public  of- 
fice, 59  ;  works  continually 
for  Florence  and  its  people, 
59»  60  ;  degraded  and  con- 
demned to  perpetual  exile, 
60,  61  ;  his  wanderings 
through  Tuscany,  63  ;  his 
wife  saves  a  small  portion 
of  his  property,  63,  64; 
forced  to  win  his  sustenance 
by  unaccustomed  labor,  64  ; 
hopes  for  return  to  Flor- 
ence, 64,  65  ;  sojourns  at 
various  places  in  Italy,  64; 
departs  from  Italy  into 
Gaul,  64  ;  gives  himself  up 
to  study  of  philosophy  and 
theology  in  Paris,  64,  65  ; 
learns  that  the  Emperor 
Henry  has  left  Germany  to 
subjugate  Italy,  65  ;  re- 
crosses  the  Alps  and  joins 
the  enemies  of  the  Floren- 
tines, 65  ;  induces  the  Em- 
peror to  abandon  Brescia 
and  lay  siege  to  Florence, 
65,  66  ;  discouraged  by  the 
death  of  the  Emperor,  66; 
passes  over  Apennines  into 
Romagna,  66  ;  in  great  de- 
spair, 66,  67  ;  invited  by  the 
Lord  of  Ravenna  to  reside 
with  him,  67  ;    spends  his 


last  years  at  Ravenna,  67, 
68;  his  sacred  studies,  67, 
68  ;  first  to  make  the  vul- 
gartongue  esteemed  among 
Italians,  69,  70  ;  his  last 
illness  and  death,  70;  his 
body  placed  upon  a  bier 
adorned  with  poetic  in- 
signia, 71  ;  borne  to  the 
tomb  by  the  most  illustri- 
ous citizens  of  Ravenna, 
71  ;  his  high  learning  and 
virtue  eulogized  by  the 
Lord  of  Ravenna,  71  ;  an 
imposing  tomb  planned  to 
honor  the  memory  of,  71  ; 
distinguished  poets  in  Ro- 
magna write  epitaphs  for 
the  proposed  tomb,  71,  72  ; 
fourteen  verses  by  Gio- 
vanni del  Virgilio  deemed 
most  worthy  of,  72,  73  ; 
Florentines  reproached  by 
Boccaccio  for  their  in- 
gratitude to,  74-82  ;  dear- 
est citizen,  eminent  bene- 
factor, and  only  poet  of 
Florence,  74  ;  not  to  be 
neglected,  80  ;  lies  in  Ra- 
venna, more  venerable  than 
Florence,  81  ;  joy  of  Ra- 
venna for  the  privilege  of 
being  guardian  of  body  of, 
82  ;  Ravenna's  envy  of 
Florence  as  the  birthplace 
of,  82  ;    Ravenna   rcmem- 


INDEX 


167 


bered  for  last  days  of, 
82  ;  Florence  remember- 
ed for  his  first,  82  ;  worn 
by  various  studies,  83  ; 
his  love,  domestic  and  pub- 
lic cares,  exile,  and  end, 
83;  his  bodily  stature,  hab- 
its, and  more  noteworthy 
customs,  83  ;  his  works,  83, 
84;  his  troublous  day,  84; 
of  moderate  stature,  some- 
what bent,  and  grave  and 
gentle  gait,  84  ;  his  apparel 
appropriate  to  his  years, 
84;  his  face  long,  nose 
aquiline,  eyes  and  jaws 
large,  and  lower  lip  pro- 
truding, 84  ;  of  dark  com- 
plexion and  melancholy 
and  thoughtful  expression, 

84  ;  his  fame  proved  by 
incident     at     Verona,    84, 

85  ;  orderly,  self-contained, 
courteous,  and  abstemious 
in  his  habits,  85  ;  wrestling 
with  studies  or  anxiety,  85  ; 
of  rare  speech,  85  ;  elo- 
quent and  fluent,  86;  fond 
of  music  and  singing,  86  ; 
fervently  subject  to  love, 
86;  incited  by  love  to  be- 
come a  poet  in  the  vulgar 
tongue,  86;  surpassed  all 
his  contemporaries,  86; 
clarified  and  beautified  the 
Italian  tongue,  86;  fond  of 


solitude  and  contemplation, 
86,  87  ;  assiduous  in  his 
studies,  87  ;  his  absorption 
in  study  proved  by  an  inci- 
dent in  Siena,  87,  88;  of 
marvelous  capacity,  re- 
tentive memory,  and  pene- 
trating intellect,  88  ;  his 
success  in  disputation  in 
Paris,  88,  89  ;  of  lofty  ge- 
nius and  acute  powers  of 
invention,  89;  eager  for 
honor  and  glory,  89  ;  loved 
poetry  more  than  any  other 
study,  89  ;  hoped  to  attain 
to  the  honor  of  the  laurel, 
89,  108,  141  ;  desired  to  be 
crowned  at  the  font  of  S. 
John  in  Florence,  89,  90; 
died  without  the  much  de- 
sired honor,  90  ;  of  lofty 
and  disdainful  spirit,  109; 
friend  of,  endeavors  to 
bring  about  his  return  to 
Florence,  109  ;  to  return  on 
condition  that  he  remain  a 
fixed  time  in  prison  and  be 
offered  in  church  as  subject 
of  mercy,  109,  HO;  these 
terms  rejected  by,  1 10; 
nourished  in  the  bosom  of 
philosophy,  1 10;  set  great 
store  by  himself,  1 10  ;  not- 
able appearance  of  this 
trait  in,  1 10,  III;  strong 
in     his     adversities,     1 11  ; 


168 


INDEX 


passionate  in  politics,  III, 
112,  113;  holds  reins  of 
government  in  Florence, 
1 1 2  ;  accused  of  licentious- 
ness, 113;  composed  many 
works  in  his  days,  Il6; 
brings  together  certain 
pieces  in  a  little  volume 
called  The  New  Life,  116; 
ashamed  of  this  little  book 
in  his  mature  years,  117; 
his  comprehensive  view, 
117;  origin  and  scheme  of 
his  Divine  Comedy,  117, 
118;  composed  the  Com- 
edy in  verse,  in  the  vulgar 
tongue,  with  great  art  and 
beauty,  118;  agitated  by 
many  and  various  accidents 
of  fortune,  1 19  ;  worked  on 
the  Comedy  to  the  end  of 
his  life,  119;  composed 
other  works  in  the  mean- 
while, 119;  exiled  after 
completing  seven  cantos  of 
the  Comedy,  120;  thework 
abandoned  by,  120;  wan- 
ders for  many  years,  with 
uncertain  plans,  120,  121; 
sojourns  with  Marquis 
Moruello  Malaspina,  122; 
the  Marquis  shows  first 
seven  cantos  of  Divine 
Comedy  to,  122;  author- 
ship of  cantos  acknow- 
ledged by, 122;  begged  by 


the  Marquis  to  complete 
the  work,  122;  resumes 
work  on  Divine  Comedy, 
122,  123;  his  work  inter- 
rupted, 123;  the  Comedy 
not  all  published  at  his 
death,  123;  sends  the  work, 
in  instalments,  to  Messer 
Cane  Grande  della  Scala, 
123;  makes  a  copy  for 
whoever  wishes  it,  123; 
sends  all  except  last  thir- 
teen cantos  to  Messer 
Cane,  123,  124;  his  friends 
distressed  at  not  finding 
concluding  cantos  after  his 
death,  124;  Giardinoadis- 
ciple  of,  124,  125;  appears 
in  a  vision  to  his  son 
Iacopo,  125;  reveals  loca- 
tion of  lost  thirteen  cantos 
of  Divine  Comedy,  125;  a 
distinguished  man  of  learn- 
ing, 127;  reasons  for  use 
of  Florentine  idiom  by, 
127-129;  dedicates  the 
Comedy,  according  to 
some,  to  three  illustrious 
Italians,  129;  according  to 
others,  to  Messer  Cane, 
129;  writes  Monarchy,  a 
book  in  Latin  prose,  130; 
divides  it  into  three  parts, 

130,  131  ;  the  book  con- 
demned after  the  death  of, 

131,  132;    Cardinal    Bel- 


I 


INDEX 


169 


trando  tries  to  burn  the 
bones  of,  132;  two  beau- 
tiful eclogues  composed 
by,  132;  dedicates  and 
sends  them  to  Giovanni 
del  Virgilio,  132;  com- 
poses a  prose  comment,  in 
vulgar  Florentine  tongue, 
on  three  odes,  132  ;  entitles 
it  Banquet,  132  ;  when  near 
death,  composes  a  little 
book  in  Latin  prose,  133; 
calls  it  On  the  Vulgar 
Tongue,  133;  intended  in 
it  to  give  instruction  on 
writing  verses,  133;  pur- 
posed to  compose  it  in  four 
parts,  133;  only  two  ex- 
tant, 133  ;  wrote  many  let- 
ters in  Latin  prose,  of 
which  some  survive,  133; 
composes  elaborate  odes, 
sonnets,  and  ballads,  133; 
spent  all  his  available  time 
in  work,  133;  his  works 
contrasted  with  deeds  of 
contemporaries,  133;  in- 
creasing brilliance  of  his 
name,  134;  origin,  studies, 
life,  habits,  and  works  of, 
135;  his  life  first  written 
by  Boccaccio,  136;  sign 
preceding  birth  of,  137; 
worthily  nourished  by 
books  and  teachings,  138; 
philosophy  an  aid  to,  139; 


studied  poetry  with  great- 
est care,  139;  significance 
of  his  becoming  a  shepherd 
in  his  mother's  vision,  139, 
140  ;  his  face  more  familiar 
to  the  world  than  that  of 
any  other  great  poet  ex- 
cept, perhaps.  Homer,  149; 
features  ascribed  to,  drawn 
by  those  who  had  seen  him, 

149  ;  problem  of  determin- 
ing respective  claims  to 
authenticity  of  many  rep- 
resentations of,  149»  150; 
Dr.  Kraus's  authoritative 
treatment    of   portraits   of, 

150  ;  principal  portraits  of, 
150-155 

Dante,  Life  of  (Boccaccio's), 
impossibility  of  definitely 
fixing  its  date,  13;  conjec- 
tures as  to  date  of,  13,  14; 
passage  from  letter  of  Pe- 
trarch incorporated  in,  13  ; 
serious  and  earnest  char- 
acter of,  14;  first  printed 
in  1477,  14;  again  issued 
in  1544  and,  separately,  in 
1576,  14;  only  twice  re- 
printed in  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, 14  ;  appears  in  a  num- 
berof  editions  in  nineteenth 
century,  14  ;  definitive  edi- 
tion of,  14;  not  translated, 
as  a  whole,  into  any  lan- 
guage, 14,  15;  comparison 


170 


INDEX 


of  different  versions  of,  5  ; 
relations  of  various  ver- 
sions considered,  15-17; 
charges  against,  24,  25  ; 
statements  in  reply  to  these 
charges,  25-27;  properly 
censurable  in  only  two  par- 
ticulars,27  ;  points  in  which 
it  deserves  praise,  27,  28 

Daphne,  nymph  loved  by 
Phoebus,  106;  changed  into 
a  laurel,  106 

David,  King  of  I  srael,  caused 
by  sight  of  Bathsheba  to 
forget  God,  114 

Days,  Boccaccio's  ten  am- 
orous, 22 

Death-masks,  so-called,  of 
Dante,  154,  155 

Decameron,  ballate  in,  mod- 
elled on  Dante's  lyrics,  18; 
Boccaccio's  serious  writ- 
ings suffer  from  his  repu- 
tation as  author  of,  24 

Dis,  depicted  by  early  poets, 
lOI 

Divina  Commedia.  See 
Comedy,  Divine 

Divine  Comedy.  Sec  Com- 
edy, Divine 

Divine  Word.     See  Word 

Donati,  Corso,  political  en- 
emy of  Dante,  152 

Donati,  Gemma,  wife  of 
Dante,  Boccaccio's  tirade 
against,    25  ;     lived    apart 


from     her     husband    from 
beginning     of     his     exile, 
25  ;   statement  of  Boccac- 
cio with  regard  to,  26 
Duomo,    the,    at    Florence, 
fresco  in,  154 
Early  races.     See  Races 
Earth,  worshiped  as  deity  by 
early  races,  94 
Elisei.     See  under  Eliseo 
Eliseo,    family    Frangipani, 
arrives    at    Florence   from 
Rome,    36,    37  ;    becomes 
a    permanent    resident    of 
Florence,  37;    leaves   nu- 
merous  descendants,   who 
call  themselves  the  Elisei, 
37 
Elysian  Fields.    See  Fields 
Elysium.     See  Fields 
Emperors,     crowned     with 
laurel  after  triumphs,  106, 
107;    properties    of    laurel 
thought  suitable  to  virtuous 
deeds  of,  107 
Empire,    the,    necessary  to 
well-being  of  world,  130; 
Rome  rightfully  holds  title 
of,   130,  131;   authority  of, 
proceeds      directly      from 
God,  131 
Europa,  exploit  of  Jove  for 

sake  of,  114 
Evangelist,   the,  visions   of, 

102 
Ezekiel,  visions  of,  102 


INDEX 


171 


Fabii,  the,  magnificent  deeds 
of,  77 

Fabricii,  the,  magnificent 
deeds  of,  77 

Faggiuola,  Uguccione  della, 
Lordof  Pisa,64  ;  Dante  so- 
journs with,  in  the  moun- 
tains near  Urbino,  after  his 
flight,  64;  first  part  of 
Divine  Comedy  dedicated, 
according  to  some,  to,  1 29  ; 
famous  in  Tuscany,  129 

Father,  birth  of  the  Word  of 
the,  99 

Ferrara.  See  under  Cac- 
ciaguida 

Fiammetta,  Lionardo  com- 
pares Life  of  Dante  with, 
22 

Fields,  Elysian,  or  Elysium, 
depicted  by  early  poets, 
lOI 

Filocolo,  introduction  to,  18  ; 
Life  of  Dante  compared  by 
Lionardo  with,  22 

Filostrato,  Lionardo  com- 
pares Life  of  Dante  with, 
22 

Fire,  worshiped  as  deity  by 
early  races,  94 

Florence,  establishment  of 
public  course  of  lectures  on 
Dante's  Divine  Comedy  in, 
18;  revulsion  of  feeling  re- 
garding Dante  in,  probably 
furthered  by  Boccaccio,  1 8  ; 


Boccaccio's  youth  spent 
in,  1 9  ;  revisited  by  Boccac- 
cio, 19;  iniquities  of,  32; 
her  beginning  taken  from 
the  Romans,  33  ;  growth  of, 
35  ;  not  merely  a  city  but 
a  power,  35  ;  destroyed  by 
Attila,  35,  36;  rebuilt  by 
Charles  the  Great,  36; 
Eliseo,  family  Frangipani, 
arrives  from  Rome  at,  36, 
37;  Dante's  early  studies 
at,  40-42  ;  festival  custom 
at,  44  ;  divided  into  two 
parties  in  Dante's  time,  58  ; 
hatred  and  animosity  en- 
gendered in,  60  ;  Dante  for- 
ced to  flee  from,  60, 61,63; 
Dante  hopes  for  return  to, 
64,65;  the  Emperor  Hen- 
ry induced  to  lay  siege  to, 
65,66;  the  siege  vigorously 
resisted  by,  66;  the  Em- 
peror raises  siege  and  de- 
parts for  Rome,  66  ;  Dante 
abandons  hope  of  return- 
ing to,  69  ;  reproached  by 
Boccaccio  for  its  ingratitude 
to  Dante,  74-82  ;  grand- 
daughter of  Troy  the  fa- 
mous,79;  daughterof  Rome, 
79;  Ravenna  more  vener- 
able than,  81  ;  Ravenna  in 
her  youth  more  flourishing 
than,  81  ;  ashes  of,  preserve 
rage  and  iniquity  that  were 


172 


INDEX 


theirs  in  life,  81,  82;  un- 
worthy of  Dante,  82  ;  Ra- 
venna's envy  of  Florence 
as  Dante's  birthplace,  82; 
remembered  for  Dante's 
first  days,  82  ;  remains  in 
her  ingratitude,  82  ;  Dante's 
desire  to  be  crowned  with 
laurel  at  the  font  of  S. 
John  in,  89,  90;  one  of 
Dante's  friends  endeavors 
to  bring  about  his  return  to, 
109,  1 10;  grievous  oppres- 
sion of,  by  Guelphs  and 
Ghibellines,  112;  Dante 
holds  reins  of  government 
in,  112;  principal  portraits 
of  Dante  at,  150-155 

Florentine  idiom.  See  Id- 
iom 

Florentines,  failure  of,  to 
follow  high  exemplars,  30; 
consideration  of  God's  fa- 
vor towards,  32,  33  !  Dante 
joins  the  enemies  of,  65  ; 
reproached  by  Boccaccio 
for  their  ingratitude  to 
Dante,  74-82 

France,  King  of.  See 
Charles 

Frangipani.     See  Eliseo 

Frederick  II,  Emperor,  38, 
39 

Frederick  III,  King  of  Si- 
cily, 129;  third  part  of  Di- 
vine Comedy  dedicated, 
according  to  some,  to,  129 


Friars,  Lesser.  See  under 
Ravenna 

Gaddi,  Taddeo,  Florentine 
painter  and  architect,  152, 
153;  fresco  by,  referred  to 
as  containing  portrait  of 
Dante,  153;  destruction  of 
fresco  by,  153 


jaul,     imperial    power 


of 
Rome      transferred      from 

Greece  to,  36;  Dante  de- 
parts from  Italy  into,  64 

Germany,  the  Emperor  Hen- 
ry departs  from,  to  subju- 
gate Italy,  65;  Louis,  Duke 
of  Bavaria,  elected  King  of 
the  Romans  by  the  electors 
of,  131  ;  return  of  Louis  to, 
131 

Ghibellines,  political  party 
in  Italy,  1 12  ;  of  great  power 
and  reverence,  112;  an- 
cestors of  Dante  twice  ex- 
iledby,  112;  Dante  changes 
into  a  fierce  partisan  of, 
112,  113 

Giardino,  Piero,  devoted 
friend  of  Dante,  19,  20,  124, 
125;  Dante's  son  Iacopo 
reveals  his  vision  to,  125, 
126;  goes  with  Iacopo  to 
the  place  of  the  lost  cantos, 
126;  finds  the  cantos,  126; 
copies  and  sends  them  to 
Messer  Cane,  126;  joins 
them  to  the  incomplete 
work,  126 


INDEX 


173 


Giotto  (Giotto  di  Bondone), 
Italian  painter,  architect, 
and  sculptor,  151  ;  portrait 
of  Dante  ascribed  to,  I5I  ; 
Passerini  and  Milanesi 
contend  that  Dante's  por- 
trait could  not  have  been 
by,  151  ;  Kraus  and  other 
critics  maintain  authen- 
ticity of  portrait  of  Dante 
ascribed  to,  1 5 1 ,  1 52  ;  por- 
trait of  Dante  by,  some- 
what idealized,  153 

God,  consideration  of  the 
justice  of,  31  ;  all-seeing 
eyes  of,  32  ;  favor  of, 
towards  the  Florentines, 
32,33;  Boccaccio  invokes 
guidance  of,  in  his  work, 
34;  appears  to  Moses  as 
if  in  an  ardent  flame,  99  ; 
theology  the  poetry  of,  1 04  ; 
just  anger  of,  on  Tuscany 
and  Lombardy,  112;  au- 
thority of  the  Empire  pro- 
ceeds directly  from,  131; 
Dante's  works  acceptable 
to,  133;  souls  of  the  living 
fed  with  word  of,  140;  the 
author  renders  thanks  to, 
on  conclusion  of  his  work, 
145,  146 

Gods,  origin  of,  among  early 
peoples,  93-96 

Greece,  growth  of,  30;  im- 
perial power  of  Rome 
transferred  to   Gaul   from, 


36  ;  Athens  one  of  the  eyes 
of,  76 

Greek  Republic.  See  Re- 
public, Greek 

Greeks,  Homer  makes  his 
tongue  esteemed  among, 
69  ;  philosophy  first  reveals 
its  secrets  to,  105;  their 
military  knowledge  and  po- 
litical life  drawn  from  phi- 
losophy, 105  ;  become  more 
famous  and  celebrated  than 
any  other  nation,  105  ;  their 
system  of  punishments  for 
the  wicked  and  of  rewards 
for  the  good,  106;  the  lau- 
rel their  chief  reward  for 
well-doing,  106  ;  inventors 
of  this  honor,  106  ;  features 
ascribed  to  Homer  due  to 
imagination  of,  149 

Gregory,  words  of,  concern- 
ing Holy  Scripture,  97 

Guelphs,  political  party  in 
Italy,  112;  of  great  power 
and  reverence,  112;  Dante 
exiled  by,  112;  Dante 
changes  into  a  fierce  op- 
ponent of,  112,  113 

Hector,  champion  of  Troy, 
80  ;  body  of,  bought  with 
much  gold  by  his  father 
Priam,  80;  long  the  de- 
fence of  the  Trojans,  80 

Helen,  exploit  of  Paris  for 
sake  of,  114 

Hell  (Inferno),  first  part    of 


174 


INDEX 


Divine  Comedy,  fame  of, 
84,  85  ;  dedicated,  accord- 
ing to  some,  to  Uguccione 
della  Faggiuola,  129;  ac- 
cording to  others,  to  Mes- 
ser  Cane  Grande  della 
Scala,  129 

Henry,  Count  of  Luxem- 
burg, elected  King  of  the 
Romans,  and  then  crowned 
Emperor,  65  ;  departs  from 
Germany  to  subjugate  It- 
aly, 65  ;  lays  siege  to  Bres- 
cia, 65  ;  abandons  Brescia 
and  besieges  Florence,  66; 
raises  siege  and  departs 
for  Rome,  66;  his  death, 
66;  Dante  writes  a  book 
at  coming  of,  130 

Hercules,  myth  of  early 
poets  concerning,  100;  vir- 
tuous deeds  of,  100;  his 
exploit  for  sake  of  Iole,  1 14 

Herod,  influence  of  women 
on,  114 

History,  studied  by  Dante, 
41 

Holy  Scripture.  See  Scrip- 
ture 

Holy  Spirit.     See  Spirit 

Homer,  makes  his  tongue 
esteemed  among  Greeks, 
69  ;  birthplace  of,  claimed 
by  seven  cities,  76;  tombs 
erected  by  the  seven  for, 
80  ;   Dante's  face  more  fa- 


miliarto  the  world  than  that 
of  any  other  great  poet  ex- 
cept, perhaps,  149;  fea- 
tures ascribed  to,  due  to 
Greek  imagination,  149 

Horace  (Quintus  Horatius 
Flaccus),  Roman  poet,  40; 
Dante  thoroughly  familiar 
with,  40  ;  his  early  imita- 
tion of,  40,  41  ;  Venosa 
glories  in,  77 

Humanists,  Early,  attitude 
of,  towards  matrimony,  26, 
27 

Iacopo,  son  of  Dante,  re- 
solves with  his  brother  to 
finish  his  father's  work, 
124;  a  marvelous  vision 
appears  to,  124;  his  foolish 
presumption,  124;  location 
of  thirteen  lacking  cantos 
of  Divine  Comedy  revealed 
to,  124;  discloses  his  vi- 
sion to  Giardino,  125,  126; 
goes  with  Giardino  to  the 
place  of  the.  lost  cantos, 
1-26;  finds  the  canton,  126; 
copies  and  sends  them  to 
Messer  Cane,  126;  joins 
them  to  the  incomplete 
work,  126 

Idiom,  Florentine,  Boccac- 
cio follows  Dante  in  using, 
34  ;  glory  of,  made  mani- 
fest by  Dante,  39  ;  Dante's 
graceful    rhymes     in,    47  ; 


INDEX 


175 


why  the  Divine  Comedy 
was  composed  in,  127-  129  ; 
Dante  composes  a  prose 
comment  in,  132 

Inferno.     See  Hell 

Iole,  exploit  of  Hercules 
for  sake  of,  114 

Isaiah,  visions  of,  102 

Italian  cities.     See  Cities 

Italians,  Dante  first  to  make 
the  vulgar  tongue  esteemed 
among,  69  ;  Florentine 
idiom  of  more  common 
utility  than  Latin  verse  to, 
127,  128 

Italy,  devastated  by  Attila, 
36  ;  return  of  Muses  to,  39  ; 
sweet  air  of,  50  ;  Dante  de- 
parts from,  64  ;  the  Em- 
peror Henry  leaves  Ger- 
many to  subjugate,  65 

Jeremiah,  Lamentations  of, 
100;  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem foretold  in,  100 

Jerusalem.     See  Jeremiah 

John,  S.,  font  of,  89 

John  XXII,  Pope,  Dante's 
Monarchy  condemned  dur- 
ing reign  of,  13 1 

Joinville,  Jean  de,  French 
chronicler,  20 

Jove,  worshiped  as  deity  by 
early  races,  94  ;  the  ele- 
ment of  fire,  100;  his  ex- 
ploit for  sake  of  Europa, 
114 


Juno,  spouse  and  sister  of 
Jove,  100 

Juvenal  (Decimus  Junius 
Juvenalis),  Roman  poet, 
77;  Aquino  glories  in,  77 

Kirkup,  Seymour,  English 
artist,  makes  tracings  of 
Dante's  portrait,  151  ;  plas- 
ter cast  of  Dante  formerly 
in  possession  of,  154,  155 

Kraus,  Dr.,  author  of  Dante  : 
Sein  Leben,  etc.,  150;  a 
distinguished  student  of 
art  and  letters,  150;  treats 
authoritatively  of  Dante's 
portraits,  150;  maintains 
authenticity  of  Giotto  por- 
trait of  Dante,  151,  152; 
brilliant  and  plausible  con- 
jecture of,  152,  153  ;  speci- 
fies most  important  por- 
trait of  Dante,  153;  his 
opinion  of  the  so-called 
death-masks  of  Dante,  155 

Lambertuccio,  Dino  dimes- 
ser,  Florentine  poet,  121  ; 
first  seven  cantos  of  the 
Divine  Comedy  taken  to, 
121  ;  a  man  of  high  intelli- 
gence, 121  ;  marvels  at  the 
beautiful,  ornate,  and  pol- 
ished style  of  the  cantos, 
121  ;  feels  their  profundity 
of  sense,  121  ;  judges  them 
to  be  a  work  of  Dante's, 
121,  122;   deliberates  with 


176 


INDEX 


finder  of  cantos  howto  send 
them  to  Dante,  122;  sends 
them  to  Marquis  Moruello, 
with  whom  Dante  resides, 
122 
Lamentations   of  Jeremiah. 

See  Jeremiah 
Lane,  Mr.,  author  of  Note 
on  the  Portraits  of  Dante, 
150 
Latin  prose.  See  Prose 
Latin  verse.  See  Verse 
Latins,  Virrfil  makes  his 
tongue  esteemed  among, 
69  ;  use  of  laurel  as  reward 
passes  from  Greeks  to,  106 
Laurel,  the,  Dante  entitled 
to,  90  ;  Dante  unwilling  to 
receive,  outside  of  Flor- 
ence, 90  ;  why  poets  are 
crowned  with,  90,  104; 
chief  reward  of  the  Greeks 
for  well-doing,  105;  still 
endures  in  the  coronation 
of  poets,  106;  fitness  of, 
for  this  purpose,  106;  has 
three  especially  notable  and 
praiseworthy  properties, 
107  ;  never  loses  its  green- 
ness nor  its  leaves,  107; 
never  struck  by  lightning, 
107;  very  fragrant,  107; 
its  properties  thought  suit- 
able to  the  virtuous  deeds 
of  poets  and  emperors,  107  ; 
significance   of   its   green- 


ness, indestructibility,  and 
fragrance,  107,  108;  Dante 
ardently  desirous  of  the 
honor  of,  108;  forms  part 
of  vision  of  Dante's  mo- 
ther, 136;  significance  of, 
137,  138 

Learning,  arms  always  give 
place  to,  80 

Liberal  studies.  See  Stud- 
ies 

Library,  National,  at  Flor- 
ence, 153 

Libya,  burning  sands  of,  50 

Life,  consideration  of  the 
instability  of,  47,  48 

Life,  New  (Vita  Nuova),first 
edition  of,  14,  II6;  influ- 
ence of,  upon  Boccaccio's 
introduction  to  Filocolo,  1 8  ; 
Dante's  sufferings  depicted 
in,  46  ;  Dante  ashamed  of, 
in  his  mature  years,  117; 
composes  many  elaborate 
odes,  sonnets  and  ballads, 
besides  those  which  appear 
in,  133 

Literature,  Mediagval,  re- 
awakening of  love  for,  14 

Lombardy,  divided  between 
two  political  parties,  112; 
Cardinal  Beltrando  legate 
of  the  Pope  in  parts  of,  I3I 

Louis,  Duke  of  Bavaria, 
elected  King  of  the  Ro- 
mans, 131  ;  comes  to  Rome 


INDEX 


177 


for  coronation,  131  ;  dis- 
obeys Pope John, 131  ;  cre- 
ates Piero  della  Corvara 
pope,  131  ;  makes  many 
cardinals  and  bishops,  131  ; 
has  himself  crowned  in 
Rome,  131  ;  his  authority 
questioned,  131;  defends 
his  authority  by  arguments 
from  Dante's  Monarchy, 
131  ;  returns  to  Germany, 
131 

Love,  discourse  upon,  43- 
51 

Lunigiana,  Dante  received 
in,  by  Marquis  Moruello 
Malaspina,  64 

Luxemburg,  Count  of.  See 
Henry 

Lycaon,  myth  of  early  poets 
concerning,  100;  vicious 
deeds  of,  100,  lOI 

Macedonia,  growth  of,  30 

Maori- Leone,  Dr.,  defini- 
tive edition  of  Boccaccio's 
Life  of  Dante  published 
by,  14 

Malaspina,  Marquis  Mor- 
uello, receives  Dante  in 
Lunigiana  after  his  flight, 
64  ;  Lambertuccio,  hearing 
of  Dante's  sojourn  with, 
sends  first  seven  cantos  of 
Divine  Comedy  to,  122; 
shows  cantos  to  Dante, 
122;  begs  Dante  to  com- 
12 


plete  the  work,  122;  sec- 
ond part  of  Divine  Comedy 
dedicated,  according  to 
some,  to,  129 

Mantua,  famous  as  birth- 
place of  Virgil,  76,  77 

Mantuans,  Virgil's  cottage 
in  Piettola  honored  by,  80 

Marini,  restoration  of  por- 
trait of  Dante  by,  151 

Marriage,  discourse  upon, 
51-56 

Men,  elevation  of  evil,  30, 
31  ;  exile  of  good,  3 1  ;  rise 
to  power  of  various,  among 
early  races,  94  ;  maintain 
order  among  these  peoples, 
94;  begin  to  call  them- 
selves kings,  94  ;  cause 
themselves  to  be  wor- 
shiped, 94;  seem  as  gods, 
95  ;  begin  to  augment 
religion,  95  ;  deify  their 
fathers,  grandfathers,  and 
ancestors,  95  ;  the  author 
bewails  lack  of  firmness 
in,  113,  11 4  ;  Dante's  works 
contrasted  with  evil  deeds 
of  majority  of,  133 

Michelino,  Domenico  di, 
well-known  figure  of  Dante 
executed  by,  154 

Milanesi,  Italian  critic,  15 1  ; 
maintains  that  Dante's 
portrait  could  not  have 
been  by  Giotto,  15 1 


178 


INDEX 


Miturnum,  bones  of  first 
Scipio  brought  by  Romans 
from,  80 

Monarchy,  Dante  writes  a 
book  in  Latin  prose  called, 
1 30;  divided  into  three 
parts,  1 30, 1 3 1  ;  condemned 
by  Cardinal  Beltrando, 
131,  132;  reason  for  con- 
demnation of,  131  ;  Louis, 
Duke  of  Bavaria,  defends 
his  authority  by  arguments 
from,  131  ;  becomes  fa- 
mous, 131 

Moon,  worshiped  as  deity 
by  early  races,  94 

Moore,  Dr.,  consideration 
of  Dante  and  his  early 
biographers  by,  16,  17 

Moses,  vision  of,  99 

Mountains,  Rhodopean,  50 

Muses,  return  of,  to  Italy, 
39 

Naples,  Boccaccio  at,  19; 
bones  of  Virgil  transported 
from  Brindisi  to,  80  ;  beau- 
tiful bronze  bust  of  Dante 
at,  155 

Nebuchadnezzar,  vision  of, 
99,  100 

Neptune,  god  of  the  sea, 
100 

Nestor.     See  Pylos 

New  Life.     See  Life,  New 

New  Testament.  See  Tes- 
tament 


Nicholas,  Bishop  of  Smyr- 
na.    See  Smyrna 

Norton,  Charles  Eliot, 
American  author,  150 

Octavian  Augustus.  See 
Augustus 

Old  Testament.  See  Tes- 
tament 

Or  San  Michele,  company 
of,  sends  subsidy  to  daugh- 
ter of  Dante,  14 

Ovid  (Publius  Ovidius 
Naso),  Roman  poet,  40; 
Dante  thoroughly  familiar 
with,  40;  his  early  imita- 
tion of,  40,  41  ;  Sulmona 
glories  in,  77  ;  burial  of,  in 
Pontus  long  grieves  Sul- 
mona, 80,  81 

Padua,  Dante  goes  to,  after 
his  flight,  64 

Paradise  (Paradiso),  Boc- 
caccio's account  of  finding 
of  last  cantos  of,  25  ;  third 
part  of  Divine  Comedy, 
129;  dedicated,  according 
to  some,  to  Frederick  III, 
King  of  Sicily,  129;  ac- 
cordingto  others,  to  Messcr 
Cane  Grande  della  Scala, 
129 

Paradiso.     See  Paradise 

Paris,  son  of  Priam,  exploit 
of,  for  sake  of  Helen,  1 14 

Paris,  when  near  old  age 
Dante    goes    to,    and    has 


INDEX 


179 


many  disputations  at,  42, 
64;  Dante's  success  in 
disputation  at,  88,  89 

Parma.     See  Cassius 

Passerini,  Italian  critic,  1 5 1  ; 
maintains  that  Dante's  por- 
trait could  not  have  been 
by  Giotto,  151 

Paur,  Dr.,  author  of  Dante's 
Portrat,  150 

Peacock,  beautiful,  forms 
part  of  vision  of  Dante's 
mother,  136;  significance 
of,  I4I-I45 

Perini,  Dino,  familiar  friend 
of  Dante,  19 

Peter,  S.,  chair  of,  40 

Petrarch  (Francesco  Pe- 
trarca), Italian  poet,  13; 
passage  from  a  letter  of,  in- 
corporated in  Boccaccio's 
Life  of  Dante,  13;  Boc- 
caccio sends  a  codex  of  the 
Divine  Comedy  to,  18; 
probable  attitude  of,  to- 
wards matrimony,  26,  27 

Philip,  King  of  France.  See 
Charles 

Philosophers,  opinion  of 
natural,  137,  138 

Philosophy,  studied  by 
Dante,  41,  64,  65;  first 
revealed  its  secrets  to 
the  Greeks,  105;  military 
knowledge  and  political  life 
of  the  Greeks  sprung  from, 


105;  sacred  opinion  of 
Solon  drawn  from,  105; 
Dante  nourished  in  bosom 
of,  110;  richness  of  teach- 
ings of  moral  and  natural, 
138,  139;  Dante  aided  by, 
139 

Phoebus,  or  Apollo,  Olym- 
pian god,  106;  Daphne 
loved  by,  106;  changes 
Daphne  into  a  laurel,  106; 
first  author  and  patron  of 
poets,  106;  crowns  lyres 
and  triumphs  with  laurel, 
106,  107;  men  follow  ex- 
ample of,  107;  laurel  the 
tree  of,  138 

Piero,  son  of  Dante,  resolves 
with  his  brother  to  finish 
his  father's  work,  124 

Piettola,  Virgil's  cottage  in, 
honored  by  Mantuans,  80 

Pisa.     See  Faggiuola 

Planets,  seven,  worshiped 
as  deities  by  early  races,  94 

Plumptre,  Edward  Hayes, 
English  clergyman  and 
scholar,  150 

Pluto,  god  of  hell,  100 

Poetes,  Poesis,  origin  and 
definition  of,  93 

Poetry,  many  scholars  in- 
structed in,  by  Dante  at 
Ravenna,  69  ;  loved  by 
Dante  more  than  any  other 
study,  89  ;   more  delightful 


180 


INDEX 


than  philosophy,  89  ;  di- 
gression with  regard  to, 
90,  91  ;  origin  of  the  name, 
93  ;  equivalent  to  theology, 
96  ;  reveals  the  text  and  a 
mystery  underneath,  97  ; 
exercises  the  wise  and 
comforts  the  simple,  97  ; 
holds  minds  of  lofty  think- 
ers rapt  in  admiration,  97  ; 
appears  as  a  river,  gentle 
and  deep,  97  ;  agrees  with 
theology  in  form  of  opera- 
tion, lOI  ;  in  certain  re- 
spects opposite  to  theology 
in  subject,  lOI,  102;  al- 
most identical  with  the- 
ology when  subject  is  the 
same,  104;  studied  by 
Dante  with  greatest  care, 
139 
Poets,  works  of,  not  vain 
and  simple  fables,  41  ; 
rarity  of,  89  ;  digression 
with  regard  to,  90,  9I  ; 
origin  and  definition  of 
name,  93  ;  importance  of 
office  of,  among  early  races, 
95  ;  office  and  practice  of, 
96;  Holy  Spirit  followed 
by  ancient,  96  ;  method  of, 
96,  97  ;  moral  teaching  of, 
99  ;  myths  of  early,  con- 
cerning Saturn,  Hercules, 
and  Lycaon,  100,  101  ; 
Elysian    Fields    and    Dis 


depicted  by  early,  101  ; 
dolts  arisen  against,  102; 
blamed  for  showing  their 
teaching  by  fables,  103  ; 
chose  fables  because  of 
their  beauty,  103;  of  pro- 
found intelligence  in  their 
methods,  103  ;  of  an  excel- 
lent and  beautiful  elo- 
quence, 104;  crowned  with 
laurel  by  Greeks  and 
Latins,  106;  use  of  laurel 
still  endures  in  coronation 
of,  106,  107,  138;  proper- 
ties of  laurel  thought  suita- 
ble to  virtuous  deeds  of, 
107  ;  use  of  Latin  verse  by, 
128  ;  divine  works  of  noted, 
held  in  slight  esteem,  128 

Poggetto,  Cardinal  of.  See 
Delirando 

Poggi,  Andrea,  nephew  of 
Dante,  greatly  resembles 
him  in  face  and  stature,  19  ; 
Boccaccio  receives  much 
information  as  to  Dante's 
ways  and  habits  from,  19 

Polenta,  Guido  Novello  da. 
Lord  of  Ravenna,  66; 
trained    in  liberal   studies, 

66  ;  his  appreciation  of 
men  of  worth  and  know- 
ledge, 66  ;  decides  to  re- 
ceive and  honor  Dante,  66, 

67  ;  asks  Dante  to  reside 
with     him,    67  ;      receives 


INDEX 


181 


Dante  at  Ravenna,  67  ;  re- 
vives Dante's  failing  hopes, 
67  ;  Dante  passes  remain- 
der of  his  life  with,  67,  69  ; 
his  great  sorrow  for  the 
death  of  Dante,  70;  eulo- 
gizes the  high  learning  and 
virtue  of  the  dead  poet,  7 1  ; 
purposes  to  honor  Dante 
with  an  imposing  tomb,  71  ; 
loses  his  estate  and  dies  at 
Bologna,  72 

Polenta,  Ostagio  da,  op- 
poses Beltrando's  design 
of  burning  Dante's  bones, 
132 

Pontus,  Island  of.  See 
under  Sulmona 

Pope.  See  Boniface,  Cle- 
ment, John,  Urban 

Pope,  the.  Legate  of.  See 
Beltrando 

Portinari,  Beatrice,  testi- 
mony concerning,  19,  27; 
meets  Dante  at  a  feast  in 
her  father's  house,  44,  45  ; 
death  of,  48 

Portinari,  Folco,  feast  at 
the  house  of,  44 

Portraits,  the  principal,  of 
Dante,  150-155 

Priam,  King  of  Troy,  buys 
with  much  gold  the  body 
of  his  son  Hector,  80 

Prose,   Latin,  book  written 
by  Dante  in,  130 
12* 


Psychical  Research,  So- 
ciety for,  26 

Publicoli,  the,  magnificent 
deeds  of,  77 

Purgatorio.     See  Purgatory 

Purgatory  (Purgatorio),  129  ; 
second  part  of  Divine 
Comedy,  129;  dedicated, 
according  to  some,  to  Mar- 
quis Moruello  Malaspina, 
129;  according  to  others, 
to  Messer  Cane  Grande 
della  Scala,  129 

Pylos,  renowned  for  the 
aged  Nestor,  76;  her  claim 
as  the  birthplace  of  Homer, 
76 

Races,  Early,  ardent  to  find 
out  truth,  91  ;  fixed  laws  of 
heaven  and  earth  suggest 
thought  of  a  superior  power 
to,  91  ;  this  power  honored 
with  more  than  human 
service,  92  ;  large  and  dis- 
tinguished edifices  built 
by,  in  honor  of  deity,  92  ; 
these  edifices  called  tem- 
ples by,  92  ;  appoint  vari- 
ous ministers  known  as 
priests,  92  ;  make  magnif- 
icent statues  in  represen- 
tation of  divine  essence, 
92  ;  introduce  vessels  of 
gold,  marble  tables,  and 
purple  vestments  for  its 
service,  92  ;  humble  them- 


182 


INDEX 


selves  before  it  with  words 
of  lofty  sound,  92  ;  desir- 
ous of  finding  words  wor- 
thy of  divinity,  92,  93  ; 
these  words  composed  by 
them  according  to  laws  of 
rhythm,  93  !  choose  a  form 
of  speech  artificial,  exqui- 
site, and  new,  93  ?  views 
of,  as  to  deity,  93,  94  ; 
planets  worshiped  by,  94  ; 
other  deities  of,  94;  vari- 
ous men  rise  to  power 
among,  94  ;  these  men  cause 
themselves  to  be  obeyed 
and,  finally,  worshiped  by, 
94 

Raphael  (Rafael,  Raffaello) 
Sanzio  (Santi),  noted  Ital- 
ian painter,  154;  head  of 
Dante  by,  154 

Ravenna,  Boccaccio's  visit 
to,  14;  Boccaccio  meets 
Dante's  daughter,  Beatrice, 
and  Piero  Giardino  at,  19; 
a  famous  and  ancient  city 
of  Romagna,  66  ;  Dante 
spends  his  last  years  at, 
67,  69  ;  trains  many  schol- 
ars in  poetry  at,  69  ;  last 
illness  and  death  of  Dante 
at,  70  ;  his  body  borne  to 
the  place  of  the  Lesser 
Friars  in,  71,81;  more 
venerable  than  Florence, 
81  ;     rendered     somewhat 


ugly  by  her  antiquity,  81  ; 
in  her  youth  more  flour- 
ishing than  Florence,  81  ; 
a  general  tomb  of  holy 
bodies,  81  ;  once  bathed  in 
blood  of  many  martyrs,  82  ; 
preserves  relics  and  the 
bodies  of  many  emperors 
and  other  illustrious  per- 
sonages, 82  ;  rejoices  in 
havingthe  privilege  of  being 
the  guardian  of  the  body  of 
Dante,  82  ;  envy  of  Flor- 
ence as  Dante's  birthplace, 
82  ;  remembered  for  Dan- 
te's last  days,  82  ;  glories 
in  Florence's  honors,  82  ; 
Giardino  a  worthy  man  of, 
124 

Ravenna,  Lord  of.  See  Po- 
lenta 

Religion,  Christian,  a  thing 
immovable  and  perpetual, 
99,  100 

Renaissance,  the,  Lionardo 
Bruni's  relation  to,  24 

Republic,  maxim  of  Solon 
concerning  the  stability  of 
every,  29,  30;  Dante's 
deeds  worthy  of  highest 
reward  by  a  just,  31 

Republic,  Greek,  more 
flourishing  than  any  other, 
105 

Republic,  Roman,  growth 
of,  30 


INDEX 


183 


Romagna,  Dante  passes 
over  Apennines  into,  66; 
Ravenna  a  famous  and  an- 
cient city  of,  66  ;  famous 
poets  in,  write  verses  in 
memory  of  Dante,  71,  72 

Roman  Republic.  See  Re- 
public, Roman 

Romans,  beginnings  of  most 
Italian  cities  taken  from, 
35  ;  Henry,  Count  of  Lux- 
emburg, elected  King  of, 
65  ;  bones  of  first  Scipio 
brought  from  Miturnum  by, 
80  ;  glory  and  arms  give 
place  throughout  the  world 
to,  106 

Romans,  King  of.  See 
Henry,  Louis 

Rome,  separate  issue  of 
Boccaccio's  Life  of  Dante 
in,  14;  imperial  power  of, 
transferred  from  Greece  to 
Gaul,  36;  Florence  rebuilt 
by  Charles  the  Great  after 
likeness  of,  36  ;  Eliseo, 
family  Frangipani,  arrives 
at  Florence  from,  36,  37  ; 
the  Emperor  Henry  raises 
siege  of  Florence  and  de- 
parts for,  66  ;  Florence 
daughter  of,  79  ;  proposed 
embassy  to  Pope  Boniface 
in,  110,  III;  rightfully 
holds  title  of  the  Empire, 
130,   131  ;   Louis,  Duke  of 


Bavaria,  comes  for  coro- 
nation to,  131 

Rutilius,  a  great  example, 
62 

Salvatico,  Count,  receives 
Dante  in  the  Casentino 
after  his  flight,  64 

San  Stefano  dell'  Uliva, 
convent  of,  Dante's  daugh- 
ter Beatrice  a  nun  in,  14 

Saturn,  worshiped  as  deity 
by  early  races,  94  ;  fiction 
of  early  poets  concerning, 
100 

Saviour,  the,  words  of,  104 

Scala,  Alberto  della,  re- 
ceives Dante  at  Verona 
after  his  flight,  64 

Scala,  Cane  Grande  della, 
Dante  sends  Divine  Com- 
edy in  instalments  to,  123  ; 
reverenced  by  Dante  be- 
yond any  other  man,  123; 
concluding  cantos  of  Di- 
vine Comedy  copied  and 
sent  to,  126;  Divine  Com- 
edy dedicated,  according 
to  some,  to,  129 

Scipios,  the  two,  great  ex- 
amples, 62  ;  magnificent 
deeds  of,  17,  80.  See  also 
Miturnum 

Scripture,  Holy,  revelations 
of  Holy  Spirit  in,  96  ;  words 
of  Gregory  concerning,  97  ; 
high  mystery  of  the  incar- 


184 


INDEX 


nation  in,  98;  poetic  fic- 
tion in,  104 

Shepherd,  great,  forms  part 
of  vision  of  Dante's  mother, 
136;  significance  of,  I39r 
140 

Sicily,  King  of.  See  Fred- 
erick III 

Siena,  Dante's  absorption 
in  study  proved  by  incident 
at,  87,  88 

Sienese,  great  celebration 
of,  87,  88 

Signorelli,  Luca  di  Egidio  di 
Ventura  de',  Italian  painter, 
1 54  ;  head  of  Dante  by,  1 54 

Smyrna,  revered  for  Nich- 
olas, her  bishop,  76;  her 
claim  as  the  birthplace  of 
Homer,  76 

Society,  Arundel.  See 
Arundel 

Solomon,  King  of  Israel, 
114;  wisdom  of,  attained 
only  by  the  Son  of  God, 
114;  caused  by  a  woman 
to  worship  Balaam,  114 

Solon,  Athenian  lawgiver, 
29  ;  a  human  temple  of  di- 
vine wisdom,  29  ;  his  laws 
an  illustrious  witness  to  the 
justice  of  the  ancients,  29; 
maxim  of,  concerning  the 
stability  of  every  republic, 
29,  30,  32,  105 

Spirit,    Holy,    followed    by 


ancient  poets,  96  ;  revela- 
tions of,  99,  100 

Spring,  clear,  forms  part  of 
vision  of  Dante's  mother, 
138;  significance  of,  138, 
139 

Statius,  Publius  Papinius, 
Roman  poet,  40;  Dante 
thoroughly  familiar  with, 
40;  his  early  imitation  of, 
40,  41 

Studies,  Liberal,  neglected, 
128 

Sulmona,  birthplace  of  Ovid, 
77  ;  her  name  made  glori- 
ous by  her  son,  77  ;  grieved 
that  the  island  of  Pontus 
held  her  Ovid,  80,  81 

Sun,  worshiped  as  deity  by 
early  races,  94 

Tales,  Boccaccio's  hundred, 
22 

Testament,  New,  visions  of 
the  Evangelist  described 
in,  102 

Testament,  Old,  visions  of 
prophets  described  in,  102 

Thebans,  the  two,  fleeing  of 
the  flames  of,  81,  82 

Theology,  profound  depths 
of,  studied  by  Dante,  41, 
64,  65  ;  high  mystery  of 
the  incarnation  in,  98; 
agrees  with  poetry  in  form 
of  operation,  101  ;  in  cer- 
tain   respects    opposite  to 


INDEX 


185 


poetry  in  subject,  IO  I,  102; 
almost  identical  with  poe- 
try when  subject  is  the 
same,  104;  the  poetry  of 
God,  104 

Thcophrastus,  Greek  phi- 
losopher, Boccaccio  bor- 
rows from,  26 

Tongue,  Vulgar,  first  exalted 
among  Italians  by  Dante, 
69,  70  ;  the  Divine  Comedy 
composed  in,  118;  reasons 
for  Dante's  use  of,  127- 
129;  Dante  composes  a 
prose  comment  in,  132 

Torquati,  the,  magnificent 
deeds  of,  77 

Torrigiani,  colored  mask- 
bust  of  Dante  ascribed  to, 
154,  155 

Tosa,  Pino  della,  opposes 
Beltrando's  design  of  burn- 
ing Dante's  bones,  132 

Troy,  Florence  grand- 
daughter of,  79 

Tuscany,  Dante  departs 
from,  64  ;  divided  between 
two  political  parties,  112; 
Uguccione  della  Faggiuola 
famous  in,  129 

Uffizi,  the,  at  Florence,  col- 
ored mask-bust  of  Dante 
in,  154,  155 

Urban  IV,  Pope,  40 

Urbino,  Dante  sojourns  in 
the  mountains  near,  64 


Vasari,  Giorgio,  Italian  ar- 
chitect, painter,  and  writer 
on  art,  151  ;  portrait  of 
Dante  referred  to  by,  151  ; 
refers  to  fresco  by  Taddeo 
Gaddi  as  containing  por- 
trait of  Dante,  152,  153 

Venosa,  birthplace  of  Hor- 
ace, 77  ;  her  name  made 
glorious  by  her  son,  77 

Verona,  Dante  sojourns  at, 
after  his  flight  from  Flor- 
ence, 64;  again  visited  by 
Dante,  64  ;  his  fame  proved 
by  an  incident  at,  84,  85 

Verse,  Latin,  why  Divine 
Comedy  was  not  composed 
in,  127-129;  use  of,  by 
poets  previous  to  Dante, 
128;  useful  only  to  the 
lettered,  128 

Villani,  Filippo,  portrait  of 
Dante  referred  to  by,  151 

Villani,  Giovanni,  writes  in 
his  Florentine  Chronicle 
incidentally  and  briefly  of 
Dante,  20 

Virgil,  or  Vergil  (Publius 
Vcrgilius  Maro),  Roman 
poet,  40  ;  Dante  thoroughly 
familiar  with,  40;  Dante's 
early  imitation  of,  40,  41  ; 
makes  his  tongue  esteemed 
among  Latins,  69  ;  Mantua 
famous  as  birthplace  of,  76, 
77  ;   his  cottage  in  Piettola 


I 


186 


INDEX 


honored  by  Mantuans,  80; 
bones  of,  transported  from 
Brindisi  to  Naples,  80; 
divine  works  of,  held  in 
slight  esteem,  128 

Virgilio,  Giovanni  del,  of 
Bologna,  fourteen  verses 
by,  in  memory  of  Dante, 
72,  73;  Dante  dedicates 
and  sends  two  beautiful 
eclogues  to,  132 

Vita  Nuova.    See  Life,  New 


Vulgar  tongue.    See  Tongue 

Water,  worshiped  as  deity 
by  early  races,  94 

Wicksteed,  P.  H.,  accurate 
and  graceful  version  of 
Life  of  Dante  by,  15;  his 
translation  of  Lionardo 
Bruni  cited,  22,  23 

Women,  discourse  on  in- 
fluence of,  114,  115 

Word,  Divine,  incarnation 
of  the,  98 


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'  •  • 


V  a.' 


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